


Family and Home

by LadyIrina



Series: The Mandalorian, his son and the Storm Trooper [4]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Baby Yoda's cuteness is a danger to everyone who crosses his path, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Found Family, M/M, Slow Burn, The mandadlorian, Touch-Starved, oblivious idiots, reformed Storm Trooper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:21:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 114,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21758992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/pseuds/LadyIrina
Summary: The Mandalorian and his son are family, tied together by love and trust, determined to keep each other safe.Corin knows he's not a part of that, he's not that lucky, but that doesn't prevent him from wishing he was.And throughout it all, the trio travel through space; hunted and hunting others, followed by good and bad luck, looking for some place to call home.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), The Mandalorian/Corin
Series: The Mandalorian, his son and the Storm Trooper [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560925
Comments: 5795
Kudos: 4178





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First of all I must say that I am floored by the kindness and love for Corin! I truly did not expect this!  
> But also; this story is dedicated to every single one of you who left comments and kudos. This ONLY exists because of your encouraging words that inspired me to continue and to keep Corin alive. Thank you!  
> 
> 
> [ ](https://imgbb.com/)

Corin counts his twenty third sit-up with a groan, sitting on the floor behind the Mandalorian's chair, before he pauses briefly and says; “What about Ardus?” That's a good name, right?

Busy piloting the ship, the Mandalorian leans down to scoop up the child from where it is trying to pull some wires loose and places it in its contraption on the seat to his left. He then goes back to stare firmly at his radar screen. “No.”

Continuing his sit-ups, Corin tries again. “Then, ngh, how about Tanniel? Or Hauser?” He can feel his almost-healed stomach object to the strain but ignores it. Twenty eight... Twenty nine...

“No.”

Hours later, Corin looks up from where he's doing push-ups in the cargo area and the Mandalorian comes marching by. Seventeen... Eighteen... “Hey, what about Gann?” Nineteen...

The Mandalorian doesn't even glance down at him, merely disappears into the cockpit. “No.”

Corin concentrates on his push ups for a while then shouts; “Tarkin?” Twenty six...

The Mandalorian's answer is muffled by the door, but is in no way hesitant; “No!”

Determined to find a name for the child, Corin goes back to his push-ups and trying to conjure up more suggestions. The Mandalorian has to approve one eventually, right? The child deserves a proper name. Not just an endless amount of nicknames.  
  
(The poor child had been exhausted after preventing Corin from bleeding to death yet again after the battle on Kerrco, passing out when the wound was reduced to nothing more than a bad cut instead of a death-sentence. And while Corin was ready to panic; the Mandalorian merely picked it up and cradled it in his arms until he could place it in its crib to sleep and recover. That was two days ago.

The second Corin and the child were back on their feet and somewhat rested, the Mandalorian wanted to leave the planet, convinced they were no longer safe there.  
Corin didn't realize he was holding his breath until the Mandalorian told him to pack whatever he wanted to bring. Only then did relief hit him like a bantha at full speed and he rushed to obey before the man could change his mind about letting Corin come with them.)  


After what passes as a sleep cycle in the darkness of space, Corin rolls out of the bunk with a groan, stretches his aching muscles and prepares to take over the controls of the ship for a bit so the Mandalorian can get some rest too.  
When he arrives at the cockpit, the bounty hunter is busy adjusting some instruments and shows no signs of getting out of the chair. The child is watching him work with absolute fascination. Corin decides to wait for his turn to pilot in a more sensible manner than just standing there like a droid.

Wringing off the shirt he's wearing to reveal the sleeveless undershirt, knowing he'll get too warm if he doesn't, Corin then reaches up above the door frame, turns his palms inwards and gets a careful grip with his fingers in the air-vent there. Once he has that, he lifts his feet back, a perfect ninety degree angle by the knees, and starts with slow, controlled pull-ups.

Seeing this, the child trills with excitement and patters over to investigate.

Corin lowers his feet to just above the floor, so the child can get a grip on his leg and climb up to sit on the back of his legs that he lifts back up again. “So I was thinking... What about Kintaro?”

“No.”

Corin is about seven pull-ups in, grunting quietly with the effort, trying to think of another name, when the Mandalorian suddenly spins around and snaps; “Can you stop that?”

Corin freezes mid-pull. He stares at the other man for a couple of heartbeats, then carefully lowers himself. He eases the child back on the ground before his own feet touches the floor. “Sorry.”

The Mandalorian glares at him through the silver helmet, no small feat but Corin can feel the anger, and it takes a visible effort for the Mandalorian to regain control of his temper. He ends up letting out a sharp exhale, then stalks forward. “I've set the course. Wake me if there is trouble.”

Corin steps aside to let him pass, automatically straightening his spine and lowering his gaze. “Sure.” Had he pushed his luck again?

The Mandalorian pauses in front of him, in front of the door, his hand grasping his own wrist tight for some reason, but then he just jolts into motion again and disappears out into the cargo area.

Confused, Corin looks over at the child, but it merely gives him a blank look in return.  
Clearly the Mandalorian was in a bad mood today.

-

By the time the Mandalorian returns, Corin has dismantled, cleaned and put together all of their weapons, sharpened the blades and prevented the child from stabbing both itself and him with them.

“We should be approaching our destination soon.” The Mandalorian says, slipping by Corin and getting into the seat the former Storm Trooper just vacated.

Corin is tempted to ask where they're headed, but he's not entirely sure if questions would be well received. He gently pries an empty blaster holster out of the child's mouth. “Roger that.”

The Mandalorian turns his head a little, looking at him, then turns his attention back to the horizon.

A short while later, a small planet comes into view and as they approach, Corin hears the control tower reveal the name over the communication system; Navion. Another planet he's never heard of. Clearly half-sleeping his way through those navigation and Planetary classes at the Academy hadn't been Corin's wisest move, but he'd never aspired to become a pilot anyways.

But his curiosity grows too strong when they land and Corin can't keep quiet when the Mandalorian picks up the child, discretely wrapped up in a blanket to hide its easily recognizable features, and he asks; “What are we doing here?” He attaches the final part of the borrowed Mandalorian armor. It always pays to be ready for battle.  
They have landed in a hanger in the outskirts of a small, but busy town. Navion is a strange mix of lush greenery and dry desert side by side at random intervals. 

“We need fuel.” The Mandalorian states, marching down the ramp with his trademark determination.

Corin has to trot to catch up with him. “Do you have a plan?”

“Yes.” The Mandalorian replies. “I'm getting a job.”

“I can help.” Corin offers, knowing how unlikely it is that he'll be allowed but hoping anyways.

“I'm counting on it.” The bounty hunter says, turning a corner.

Exhaling a smile, Corin hurries to follow.

They are halfway down the street towards what Corin figures is some kind of meeting area, judging by all the people going inside and coming back out, when a voice calls out.  
“You! In the armor. Wait!”

Corin can hear the Mandalorian sigh as they come to a halt, but he's not overly surprised himself. That shining Beskar armor really does attract attention wherever they go.

A young man catches up with them, stepping up to the Mandalorian with no fear in his eyes in a way that only the rich and privileged do. Someone who has not seen what violent men can do. “You are a Mandalorian, yes? Your armor. Beskar. Only a true Mandalorian would wear Beskar like that.”

The Mandalorian looks at him. “I am.”

The young man beams with excitement. “I've been reading about you. About Mandalorians. I never thought I'd experience a real Mandalorian.” He sends Corin a quick look, but dismisses him even quicker, and suddenly Corin decides he doesn't like this guy. Bound to be bad luck.

“What do you want?” The Mandalorian asks, without any effort at sounding polite or welcoming.

“I want to hire you!” The young man declares with pride.

The Mandalorian sighs and walks on. Corin doesn't even try to hide his smug smirk.

“Wait!” The young man scrambles after him and gets in his way. “I can pay you!”

“I don't...” The Mandalorian begins, sounding annoyed now as he's forced to stop, but then the young man pulls something out of his pocket and holds it up for him to see.  
A thick brick of Beskar.

It changes everything. Corin can feel how the Mandalorian goes from annoyed to transfixed.

“I have been saving it for years. I know all about the Mandalorians and the Beskar.” The young man proclaims with pride. “Work for me and it is yours.”

The Mandalorian slowly lifts his gaze from the Beskar to his face. “What do you want me to do?”

“I have to go to Haggadah, a city to the south of here, for my Life Day. I want you to escort me there.”

The Mandalorian nods. “Very well. We'll get you there.”

-

The preparations doesn't take too long. They gather up the provisions needed, compliments of their new client, who informed them his name was Tiem and that he would wait by the town gates.  
Corin adjusts the sling the Mandalorian made for him to carry the child on his back, trying to make it comfortable for both him and the young one, while the Mandalorian attaches his rifle to his back. He waits for the other man to take the lead and then follows him to their destination.

Right outside the gates, Tiem is waiting for them. With two dewbacks.

The Mandalorian approaches them with calm surprise while Corin makes a face. He never did like those reptiles. The Sand Troopers swore by them, but there was a reason why Corin had chosen to specialize in the snow. He didn't do well in the desert and found most of its creatures scary as hell.

“Where did you get dewbacks?” The Mandalorian asks, gently stroking a hand along the neck of one of the massive creatures. 

“My father imported them from Tatooine for me.” Tiem sends Corin a brief glance. “There are only two, though. I thought maybe your... friend wouldn't mind staying behind?”

It doesn't take a Grand Moff to figure out that Tiem doesn't want a scruffy no-one to esthetically ruin his dream trip with a childhood hero in a shining armor. When the enemy had hurled insults at him, it had slid off Corin like snow off a tauntaun. But now? Hearing this little rich brat, someone who has never gotten his hands dirty in his life, talk down to him? Corin's fingers twitch, itching to reach for his blaster and just shoot him. That jerk deserved a taste of bad luck.

The Mandalorian glances back at Corin, absently pats the dewback a couple of more times, considers, then turns back to the reptile and moves over to put his foot into the stirrup of the saddle. He swings up and settles. “That's okay.”  
And just as the sinking feeling of cold disappointment settles low in Corin's belly, the Mandalorian swings his rifle off his back and places it across his lap. Then he maneuvers the creature over and offers his hand towards Corin.

Corin doesn't like dewbacks, but he likes Tiem even less. And he isn't going to let the Mandalorian down if he really does trust him to watch his back. So he reaches out, takes the hand, places a foot against the reptile and swings himself up to land somewhat clumsily behind the bounty hunter.  
The child giggles from behind his back.  
Tiem doesn't look happy, but there isn't really much he can say so he merely gets up on his dewback as well and sets it into motion.

When the dewback carrying the Mandalorian and Corin moves as well, eager to follow its friend, the movement startles Corin. It feels like he's going to topple off backwards, so he grabs a hold of the Mandalorian's sides. He can feel him twitch and is a little comforted by the fact that the bounty hunter clearly isn't comfortable riding these beasts either. Good.

It's a long ride across a barren, boring desert. The sun is scorching. The child sleeps. And Tiem talks. And talks. And then talks some more. He doesn't care that he barely gets any replies. He talks!  
Corin isn't sure which is worse; the heat or the guy's voice. Constantly going on and on about how much he's always admired the Mandalorians and that he grew up wanting to be one. He drones on about their weapons, Beskar and that his father could probably find more if they stayed for a while.

Turning his face away from Tiem and his constant talk, Corin sighs, miserable in the heat, and doesn't really realize that he's sagging more and more against the back of the Mandalorian until he's slumped there like a Hutt with his chin on top of the right Beskar pauldron.  
If he's going to be bored to death, at least he can die sitting comfortably. He even eases his death-grip on the Mandalorian's sides and lets his hands rest lightly by the top of the man's hips instead.  
He can tell the Mandalorian isn't happy with Tiem's nagging either; he's tense as iron. It's like leaning against a concrete wall. He hasn't shifted or moved at all since they set out.

It takes forever and a day, but finally the sun sets and the Mandalorian declares they'll make camp for the night. Corin is relieved for several reasons; the child is getting really restless after an entire day of patience, it will shut Tiem up for a few seconds and also; Corin's butt is numb after so many hours in the saddle.

-

It ends in a messy fight. After they have set up camp and a fire is lit, it turns bad. Really bad. Tiem starts sending sniping remarks his way, trying to provoke, and finally Corin snaps.  
“Says a spoiled little brat who has no idea what goes on in the universe.” Corin counters angrily. “You're the kind who sends men out to die because you want something and can't get it yourself!”

“How dare you talk to me this way?” Tiem huffs. “You're fired!”

The Mandalorian watches them, quietly, the child curled up in his left arm, and he remains quiet.

“Fine. I don't need you or your Beskar. That's his deal.” Corin turns on his heel and stalks away, into the desert. He's most definitely not upset at the fact that the Mandalorian does nothing to stop him.

The distance he walks is unclear, but suddenly he's not alone. No, three speeder bikes comes racing over the sand dunes.  
Corin stops and frowns. He has his blaster, but he's not sure if these are friends or foes. He's going to have to make his way back to the town somehow and it would be awesome not to walk the entire way. He rests his hand on the hilt of the blaster and waits.

When they are close enough, he sees something that makes fear curl up tight in his stomach. On two of the bikes; nets with blood-stained Storm Trooper helmets. But they can't know he is... Can they?  
His answer is one of them pointing at him and calling out; “There he is!”

Corin turns and runs, draws his blaster, but seconds later he trips in the sand and loses it.

He's scrambling on all fours to find his weapon when the men reaches him. One of them grabs a hold of his hair and yanks him up on his knees. The men looks like black, towering monsters against the desert sky.  
Flailing at the hand grasping his hair, terrified and desperate, Corin chokes on his fear and realizes yet again just how much he wants to live. Now more than ever, after the Mandalorian and the child opened his eyes, showed him what family means, has he come to realize that life has so much more to offer than what he'd experienced as a soldier. He wants to live!  
But good luck has never been on his side. Corin is alone. Has always been alone.

“Corin?”  
A voice speaks through the darkness. A calm, familiar voice.  
A hand takes a hold of his shoulder.

Corin's voice finally breaks free and he shouts; “No!” just as he throws a hard punch.

A punch that lands directly into a palm and is quickly immobilized by a strong grip around his fist. 

Heaving for air, blinking confused and scared, Corin's vision slowly clears and he realizes that he's not looking up at the men meaning to shoot him but rather at the Mandalorian who is crouching next to him where he is lying on a blanket next to the camp fire.  
He had been dreaming, Corin realized. The fight, him leaving, those men... All a horrible dream.

“Are you okay?” The Mandalorian asks quietly, holding Corin's fist securely in his grip.

Still feeling the terror of the dream, Corin can't find the words to lie and say yes. The first couple of combat missions after the Academy had left him with horrible dreams, but it wasn't that uncommon and most Troopers learned to ignore it in both themselves and each other. Pretend you were okay hard enough and you'd might start to believe it in the end. With any luck.

The Mandalorian leans closer, reaches out his free hand and slides it behind Corin's neck, cradling it in a comforting gesture, so very gentle despite the thick leather glove. “You're safe. Understand? You were just dreaming.”

Gulping for air, Corin yanks his hand free from the bounty hunter's grip and grabs his arm instead, digs his fingers into the jacket in a desperate hold. “Don't leave me behind on some random planet some day. Whatever you want, I'll do it. Just don't leave me behind. I'll be quiet. You won't even notice I'm on the ship.”

The Mandalorian doesn't reply at first, making Corin even more scared, then he places his now unoccupied hand over the one Corin has latched on to his arm with. “That isn't...”

“Hey!” Tiem calls out. “Mandalorian! I need your help over here. I think my blaster isn't working.”

The Mandalorian hesitates, sighs, so Corin lets go of his arm and pulls away to make the choice easy for him. “You better go. Or he'll start talking again and I will shoot him.” Corin gets up, is a little unsteady, but makes his way over to check on the child. That makes him feel a little better.

-

Corin doesn't want to fall asleep again, but he does. Sitting leaning against one of the dewbacks, with the child in his arms, he drifts off and doesn't wake up until the Mandalorian gently shakes his shoulder and asks if he wants food.  
Corin and the child eats, loud and enthusiastically, while Tiem talks and the Mandalorian stands guard. But it's not long after that before it is time to continue the journey.

“Hey, if you want to let your dewback rest a little,” Tiem says, “you can ride with me on mine, Mandalorian.”

“That's okay.” The bounty hunter replies, then turns to Corin. “You take the dewback. I wanna look around for a bit.”

The idea of riding the dewback alone, or more precisely; alone with the kid, doesn't sit well, but the smugness of the Mandalorian dismissing Tiem's offer gives Corin the courage to do exactly that.  
And it turns out it isn't so bad. With just him and the kid, it's a lot roomier. He can let the child sit on his lap, let it climb around and explore a little by having a firm grip on its robes, it can even pat the ambling dewback's scaly skin, with the armed Mandalorian walking alongside them on top of a sand dune nearby.

The child eventually turns and places a hand against the armor covering Corin's stomach and makes a quizzically sound while tilting its head.

Corin takes a light hold of the tiny hand. “I'm okay. It's healing fine. You don't have to.” He only feels the occasional tug in the wound, nothing like the deep ache he'd had at first. “Thank you.”

Trilling a sweet sound, the child then turns to scout for the Mandalorian and upon spotting him, it squeaks and waves.

The Mandalorian shifts his rifle over to one hand and waves back before taking up scout duty again.

“That's a Mandalorian armor.” Tiem steers his dewback a little closer to Corin and the child, scanning said armor with the eye of someone who considers himself an expert but isn't. “It has Mandalorian tech. Why are you wearing it? You're no Mandalorian.”

Corin is tempted to tell him the truth, the fact that he's a Storm Trooper, just to see his face, but knows it won't be worth the risk of him telling somebody else. “I'm just borrowing it.”

“You shouldn't.” Tiem sniffs. “It's dishonest. Pretending to be a Mandalorian when you're not.”

Corin's fingers twitch to grab his blaster again, but the child coos and distracts him. 

“And what exactly is that?” Tiem looks at the child with as much disdain as he has for Corin.

No. That is just not acceptable. Not at all. Nobody disrespects this child. It is time that Tiem learns about bad luck. Corin's hand slides down and takes a hold of the blaster and shakes his head a little. “I tried. I really tried, Tiem.”

“Tried what?”

“Not hold the fact that you are a spoiled little brat against you.” Corin pulls out the blaster. “I mean, I guess you couldn't control that any more than a soul could control being born into a poor family. It is your bad luck. But you don't get to take it out on a child. Especially not this child.”

The sound of the Mandalorian's rifle cuts through the conversation and Corin's gaze snaps over to see the fluttering robe of a desert rogue in the distance. “We got company.”

Bandits pop up from the sand like ewoks in a jungle and starts firing at them. Corin clutches the child to his torso, shoves Tiem hard and then he jumps down from the panicking dewback.

The Mandalorian's rifle bark a couple of more times, then he switches over to blaster.

Unfortunately, Corin doesn't have the time to enjoy the sight and sound of Tiem falling face first into the sand, sputtering and wailing with panic at the firefight, Corin simply turns, making sure to keep his body between the child and the rogues, and starts to fire his blaster as well.  
One shot punches into Corin's armor and would have gone straight through his shoulder if not for the protection, almost knocking him off balance, but he recovers and continues firing.  
The child wails anxiously so he rocks it gently with his other arm.

The Mandalorian slides down the sand dune and deals with the final rogue, and then captures the fleeing dewbacks before walking back to the others.

Tiem is still on the ground, all eyes, while Corin holsters his gun and tries to calm the child further.

-

Tiem doesn't grow any warmer towards Corin after that, which suits him fine as he doesn't like him any more either, but at least he stops sniping at him with smart-ass comments. Maybe he knows there is no way Corin won't hit him back with Tiem's 'heroic' effort during the firefight.

The Mandalorian simply asks if they're alright, ignores Corin's word of assurance that they are by reaching out and tugging lightly at the singed pauldron. “You got hit.”

“Bad luck.” Corin smiles a little. “But, hey, good luck I had your armor.”

The Mandalorian grunts, then orders them back up on the dewbacks. “I want to reach Haggadah before sundown. There's a lot more of these out here. In small groups, they're no problem, but I don't want the bigger groups to notice us.”

The child reaches out for him so Corin hands it over to the Mandalorian, who speaks softly to it in a beautiful language Corin doesn't understand. So of course Tiem lights up.  
“That's Mando'a, isn't it?” Their current employer asks eagerly.

The silver helmet turns to look at him. “Yes.” Then he turns to the dewback. “Let's go.”

Corin clears his throat, figuring it is only fair they'd trade pedestrian duty. “I can walk for a while.”

The Mandalorian gets up on the dewback, places his rifle across his lap, shifts his weight until he's comfortable, then moves the child over on his right arm and holds his left hand out for Corin.

Swallowing hard, not sure why this makes that something clench inside his chest again, he's been feeling that so often lately that he's starting to worry he's got some kind of sickness, but Corin does reach out and take the hand and is pulled up.  
He shifts and settles behind the Mandalorian. Knowing he'll just end up clinging to the man's back once the dewback starts walking, he wastes no time in leaning against him and placing his hands on his hips.  
The Mandalorian clears his throat and kicks at the dewback to make it move.

Tiem has to scramble to get up on his mount and catch up with them.

This time, Corin finds he doesn't mind the journey as much. He's a little more relaxed on the creature, which means he can merely lean against the back before him and let the gentle sway of the dewback lull him into a comfortable apathy. The Mandalorian's broad back is an excellent mattress, he feels warm and solid, even the edge of the man's left cuisses pressing uncomfortably against Corin's thigh doesn't bother him.  
He can pretend for a while, can't he? That he isn't merely a tag-along? That they do this all the time?

They reach Haggadah before sunset and before any more rogues find them.  
By then Corin is almost sad to let go of the Mandalorian and slide off the dewback, but it is worth it to be rid off Tiem. He accepts the child when the bounty hunter hands it over and stands aside when he gets off the reptile as well.

“Are you sure I can't persuade you to stay, Mandalorian?” Tiem just about pleads. “I'll pay you.”

The Mandalorian shakes his head. “I need to get back to my ship. I'll just take that Beskar.”

Reluctantly, the young man hands it over before taking the reigns of the dewbacks and he walks towards one of the many mansions there with his head hanging low.

Corin watches the Mandalorian turn the thick plate of Beskar over in his hand, studying it from every angle, and is just about to ask what they're going to do next. They need credits for fuel. Is he really going to sell the Beskar? Corin doubts it. So that means they got to find money elsewhere.

“Stay here. Watch the kid.” The Mandalorian suddenly orders and stalks away before Corin has the time to object.

He sees the bounty hunter disappear into the crowd and then glances down at the curious child in his arms. “And here I thought we were finally a team?”  
The child coos.  
  
They find a table nearby and settle to wait. And turns out to be a very long wait. Both Corin and the child are more or less asleep when the Mandalorian's voice wakes them.

“Get up.”

Corin jumps to his feet. “I wasn't sleeping.”

The Mandalorian merely starts to loosen the singed pauldron on Corin's shoulder and Corin has a moment of dread. He is taking the armor back? Before Corin could ruin it completely? The good luck has finally run out with the Mandalorian too, huh?  
He looks down, ashamed of his own failure, doesn't want to see, merely feels the man remove the piece and fidget with the straps on his shoulder. 

Then there is a final tug and the Mandalorian steps back, looks at him, strangely silent, then spins on his heel and marches away. “Let's go. We need to find a job to earn us some credits to get that fuel.”

Corin lifts his head, a little confused as to why he didn't take the rest, and is about to follow him when he notices it and shock slams into him. 

Attached and protecting his shoulder; a shining Beskar pauldron.

\- - -

Huge thanks to Aoishin for the amazing art!

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corin gets hit on and meets a ghost from the past.
> 
> The Mandalorian is hanging on to his sanity by pure force of will until he can't.
> 
> Baby Yoda is adorable. I have spoken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to Aoishin for the most adorable and hilarious fan-art. Debating what would should be the ship-name for the Mandalorian and Corin, one suggestion was Mandorin, which sounds a lot like the mandarin orange and it inspired this gem:
> 
> [ ](https://imgbb.com/)

Trotting after the Mandalorian as he stalks into Haggadah, Corin holds the child close and dodges the people getting in his way until he catches up. “Wait. I... I can't accept this.”

The Mandalorian doesn't slow down or look his way. “Why not?”

“Because this belongs to you,” Corin insists. His heart thunders like crazy as if he was just chased by the rebel army instead of given a fortune to wear on his shoulder.

“You did half the job,” the Mandalorian replies. His voice is flat and disinterested.

Corin scoffs. “I did not.” He merely tagged along, as usual. He never did anything unless good or bad luck forced him to. The Mandalorian was the one who had defeated (most of) the bandits and suffered through Tiem's constant fawning. “And even if I did, this is Beskar!”

“You do the job, you get paid.”

“But I didn't,” Corin objects, only to choke on his words when the Mandalorian comes to an abrupt halt and spins around to face him, almost causing Corin to walk straight into him.

“You don't want it?” The Mandalorian asks. His voice is layered with... something. 

So close he has to lean back a little to keep his nose from rubbing against the silver helmet, Corin swallows hard. “I...” He has to give it back -It's not his, he can't keep it, it wouldn't be right- he knows this, yet the words won't come. Corin doesn't care about the value of the Beskar. His brain is stuck on the fact that this is the first gift he has received since he was six years old and for some reason, the fact that it came from the Mandalorian? It makes it even more precious to him.

The child makes an annoyed sound at being squished between them.

“You don't want it?” The Mandalorian repeats, getting impatient and angry now.

“I want it!” Honesty blurts out before he can stop himself. “Thank you. But it's too much. I can't...”

“It's yours.” The bounty hunter cuts him off and spins around again to march on once more.

Corin needs a moment to recover, then hastens to catch up and feels terribly torn between what he should do and what he wants to do. What he wants to do, keep this precious gift, goes against everything he has been taught. And, yet... It would be rude not to accept it, wouldn't it? One shouldn't dismiss a gift. It could bring bad luck. Right?  
So Corin decides to stop insisting on giving it back. He can always do it later. If the Mandalorian changes his mind about the gift. Which, truth be told, Corin would have no trouble understanding.

They enter something looking like a hybrid between a bar and a restaurant. It's not overly crowded in there, but there is an impressive variety of species wandering around and most are scowling at each other. The Mandalorian points towards a corner table, which Corin beelines towards while reassuring the fussing child that they'd get something to eat real soon.

The Mandalorian lingers by the bar, talking to some people there, before coming over to the table. “I need to meet someone. I ordered you two some food.”

Corin nods, trying to prevent the child from eating from a bowl left behind by whomever had used the table before them. “Thank you. You want us to wait here until you get back?”

“I'll be back before you're done eating.” The Mandalorian walks away and disappears into the crowd.

The child makes a sad, quizzical sound and looks up at Corin with drooping ears. 

“It's okay, kiddo. He'll be back.” Corin picks up the child and places it on his lap, facing him. “He won't leave you behind. I promise.” He smiles a little. “He's quite fond of you, you know.”

The child reaches out a small hand and places it against his chest, over his heart, and coos.

“Yeah.” Corin says, quietly. “I've grown quite fond of you too.” He knows he shouldn't have grown attached. Caring about others is a mistake. Caring about others always means getting hurt when you lose them. Bad luck.  
But it's too late now. The child, the Mandalorian, Corin cares and all he can do is savor every moment he has with them.

Putting on a smile, Corin turns the child to look at the crowd. “See that guy over there? That's a Rodian. They got suction cups at the end of their fingers. Very good pickpockets.”

-

It takes a little while, but eventually the food arrives to their table. Delivered by a dark haired woman with no small amount of skin on display.  
Placing the bowls on the table, placing the old ones on her trey, she looks at the child standing in the seat while eagerly reaching for its food and a bright smile lights up her face. “That is the most adorable thing I've ever seen”

Corin can't help grinning as well, wholeheartedly agreeing. “Isn't he?”

She glances over at Corin, scanning his looks and not really hiding it.“Yes. Yes, he is.” She straightens and the smile turns sultry. “He's very cute.”

It's been a while since anyone has shown interest in Corin, his Storm Trooper helmet usually scared everyone away, so he can't help but to feel flattered. He's about to give a reply when a familiar voice cuts in with sharp determination.

“Just the food. Thanks.”

The waitress is startled to see the Mandalorian emerge from nowhere like a malignant ghost to hover by the table. She gives him a quick bow and basically flees.

Corin lifts the child back up on his lap so it'll be able to reach its food easier and gets his fingers out of the way before they become casualties of the child's greed. “Did you get the job?”

The Mandalorian slides down to sit next to him, his thigh bumping lightly against his, and keeps his gaze on where the waitress had disappeared. “Yes.”

Corin looks over at him, but when the bounty hunter continues to stare and not give him an answer, he has to prod a little; “And?”

Leaning back, stretching his arms out, the Mandalorian finally turns his focus to him. “We're making a delivery. The package is on its way.”

Corin is about to lean back as well, but finds he'd be squishing the man's arm if he does. “What is in it?”

“I didn't ask.”

Nodding, Corin has no trouble with that. Better not to know some times. And he has absolute faith in the Mandalorian's judgment. If it turns out too unsavory, he will pull the plug. The child and Corin still being alive are living proof of that. “Deliver it where?”

“Back to where we started.” The Mandalorian tilts his helmet a little. “No dewbacks available, though. I got us two speeder bikes, but that means we got to go the long way around.”

“We got time,” Corin shrugs. He's in no hurry. He's perfectly content right where he is; with these two. 'Where' doesn't matter. Maybe if they keep on the down-low like this, luck won't notice them?

A little while later a stranger approaches their table and hands the Mandalorian a small package. It seems harmless enough. The bounty hunter scoops up the child and says; “Up. Time to go.”

Corin scrapes the final pieces out of his bowl and slurps the remaining soup before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and getting up. “Roger that.”

Outside the building, two speeder bikes are parked. They are old, rusty and look ready to break down at any moment. The Mandalorian sighs at the sight of them, but Corin sends him a grin.  
“Don't worry. Good luck is on our side. I can feel it.”

The Mandalorian grunts, clearly not convinced, and merely gets on the bike. “Let's just go before they collapse before we're even out of the town.”

But to the bounty hunter's surprise; the bikes hold. They race across the desert for hours, the child secure in the Mandalorian's embrace and delighted at the speed, with no sign of any sand bandits.  
Maybe good luck finally is on Corin's side again?

Just as the sun sets and dusk is creeping in, the Mandalorian signals Corin that they are going to stop over by some dead trees.  
Parking the bikes, Corin takes over the baby-sitting duties while the Mandalorian gathers up branches to light a camp fire. (Corin is a little startled when flames shoot out of the man's glove, but, hey, it does the trick.) After that, the bounty hunter insists on finding more branches so they'd have for the rest of the night.

Sitting down by the fire, legs crossed and the child soon half-asleep in his lap, Corin suddenly notices his Beskar pauldron has dirt on it. He instantly reaches up for it, detaches the piece of armor and holds it in his hand. Studying it, drawing his fingers along some of the edges, admiring the work, Corin then starts cleaning it with gentle care. It doesn't matter that it is one of the most durable materials in the universe, he treats it like it could shatter at a hard touch.

He's so lost in his mission that he is a little startled to suddenly find the Mandalorian standing next to him, more branches in his arms, looking down at him without a word. How long had he been standing there?  
Corin blinks. “Something wrong?” Oh, did bad luck find them after all?

The Mandalorian's body twitches as if he just snapped out of a daze and he quickly moves over to dump the branches near but not too near the camp fire. “It's fine. Everything is fine.”

-

Eventually the Mandalorian settles by the fire as well, an arm's length away from Corin. 

Corin is half-smiling, drawing his fingers along the child's ears, again and again, delighting in how the act makes it coo sounds of contentment like a loth-cat. He glances over at the bounty hunter to share the moment and it becomes a full smile. The sounds and the child's face are too cute not to.

He doesn't know how he knows, he certainly can't see it, but Corin can feel the other man smile behind his helmet too. A smile of soft affection.  
It makes Corin's heart beat faster and his gaze shifts down to the child again. He must really be coming down with something. Talk about bad timing and bad luck!

“Why did you join the Storm Troopers?” The Mandalorian asks out of nowhere, but with gentle curiosity instead of judgment. Almost as if he finds it hard to believe.

Corin shrugs one shoulder, drawing his fingers to the tip of the child's ear and starts over again. He really doesn't like to think about his old bad luck. “I don't know. It was expected of me, I guess. My father was a Trooper before he advanced up in the grades. My uncle, the same. They wanted me to follow in their footsteps so they trained me and got me enrolled.”

The Mandalorian prods at the fire with a branch before tossing it into the flames. “Was it bad?”

Hesitating, reluctant to awaken memories of the worst kind of luck, Corin focuses on the now sleeping child and moves his fingers over to gently stroke them over the tiny tufts of hair on its head. “Not always.” He frowns. “The training was okay. Nothing I wasn't used to already. And I made friends. Good friends. Not everyone was a fanatic.” The frown deepens. “It's when they started dying that I...” Corin draws a breath and puts on a smile as he looks over at him. “And you? You grew up knowing you wanted to continue the Mandalorian legacy?”

The Mandalorian shakes his head. “No. My parents were killed when I was very young. The Mandalorians took me in. Let me stay. Raised me.”

Corin did not expect that reply. He's both stunned and devastated. And here he was complaining about his misfortune? This is why Corin deserves those bouts of bad luck. “I'm sorry...”

“Yeah...” The bounty hunter sighs. “Me too.” He nods towards him. “You should get some sleep. I'll take first watch.”

“Okay.” Corin replies, easing the sleeping child down on the still lukewarm sand, makes sure it is carefully wrapped up in its robes and not exposed to any chills. After that, he curls up next to it and tries to get comfortable.  
He fails.

Two minutes later, the Mandalorian loses patience and glances over at him. “What is wrong?”

Corin doesn't want to admit it, but he can't lie to him. “It's the sand.” He sits up and rubs at the side of his face and neck. “It gets in everywhere.” Another reason why he prefers snow.

The Mandalorian stares at him for a few seconds and Corin wants to dig a hole in the sand and crawl into it to hide his embarrassment for whining as if he was a child too, but then the bounty hunter reaches back and unfastens his cloak. He holds it out to Corin. “Here. Sleep on this.”

Corin numbly accepts it, but realizes it would only mean that the other man would be forced to sleep on the sand without it. He looks at the cloak and then back at the Mandalorian before coming to the only reasonable conclusion; “We haven't seen signs of bandits all day. Let's just share it.”

The silver helmet snaps around to stare at him. “What?”

“Come on, you know as well as I do that there are no bandits around this area. It's going to get cold. So let's share it.” He places the cloak on the sand, straightens it out, pats down any uneven bumps, kneels next to it and nods with satisfaction. When he looks over at the Mandalorian, Corin finds that the man hasn't moved. He gives the cloak a couple of teasing pats to encourage him closer. 

“Go to sleep.” The Mandalorian growls and turns to stare at the camp fire.

Corin crawls over to lie on the cloak, confused as to why the man always insisted on making things so difficult. He already admitted back then that the Mandalorians would huddle up, and, fine, Corin is a vile Storm Trooper, but surely he could close his eyes and think of the Empire for the sake of escaping sand and cold winds for one night?

Curled up on his side, the child snoozing in front of him, Corin sneaks a peek over at the Mandalorian under lowered eyelashes. He sees the flames reflected in the silver helmet, the elbows resting on the knees the Mandalorian has pulled up and how one hand is clutching the wrist of the other. Quiet, mysterious, kind and strong, the man is fascinating. Corin's gaze is drawn to how he seems to be rubbing his thumb against the edge of the glove covering aforementioned wrist. 

Corin suddenly remembers how that skin feels. Against his fingertips. Against his lips. He can almost swear he'd taste the salt of the man's skin if he was to lick his lips right now.  
He wonders what it would feel like if the Mandalorian would return the favor, put his hands on him, touch his skin with his lips...  
Corin feels heat stir low in his belly, feels it unfurling, aiming to settle in, and he closes his eyes hard, refusing himself to look any more at something he will never have and forces the thoughts away.  
No need to torment himself with what is so close yet forever out of reach. He doesn't need to dwell on his bad luck.

-

They switch watch duty twice during the night and Corin is relieved to see that the man at least doesn't mind sleeping on the cloak as long as Corin isn't there. The Mandalorian even centers himself exactly where Corin had just been lying and where there still had to be residual heat left behind by him, so clearly he wasn't unaffected by the cool desert night temperatures.

And when daylight barely begins to creep above the horizon, they pack up and get back on the speeder bikes. The child continues to sleep, safely cradled in the sling on Corin's back, clearly not ready to rejoin the world just yet as they begin the final stretch to the desert town where their ship is parked.

By the time they park the bikes outside the town gates and enter the town itself, the child is very much awake and demands to be let down to wander around. Corin puts it back on its two little feet and keeps a wary eye on it despite knowing the Mandalorian is currently doing the same. There are a lot of big creatures walking around here and the child is so very small. If anyone was to not look where they're going...  
He's so focused on the child that he doesn't see the danger before it is almost too late.

Luckily his reflexes are still sharp so Corin manages to grab a hold of the child and the Mandalorian and yank them along into a horribly narrow corridor between some buildings they were just passing by.

The child makes a quizzical chirp, the Mandalorian grunts as his shoulder smacks against the building while Corin is trying to peer out at the crowd from the enclosed space. “What?”

Corin keeps his eyes on the crowd passing them by. “Out there. Dark hair, gray eyes, scar.”

The Mandalorian turns his helmet and looks for the person Corin is referring to. When he finds him, a rugged looking civilian, he asks; “What about him?”

“I recognize him,” Corin says, unknowingly hugging the child a little closer and digging his fingers into the Mandalorian's jacket. “He was in the Imperial army. I recognize his face. One of the higher ranking Storm Troopers I met. Captain Derge Thilleon. One of the fanatics. He was always shouting about killing our enemies. That traitors deserved nothing but death.” Corin watches the man walk by. “And while he isn't wearing his armor, I doubt very much that man has changed.”

It is strange how, while he never liked Thilleon and his fanaticism, the sight of a fellow Storm Trooper has always meant safety and loyalty, even the fanatics would defend you in battle, but now it makes him tense and almost nervous.  
Maybe because a part of him, the soldier, is pointing out that he should, technically, approach the man and report for duty. He is a superior officer. Corin is a Storm Trooper. The Empire is still alive in shattered fragments around the universe and one day they might align to become something big, something his father and uncle would have wanted him to be a part of.  
He should, he definitely should, but he can't make himself give up the child or get his fingers to unclench their grip on the Mandalorian's jacket. And as the seconds pass, Corin is pathetically grateful that the Mandalorian doesn't make him. 

The bounty hunter merely keeps watching Thilleon until he's out of sight and only then does the helmet turn to shift his focus to Corin. “I'll make the delivery alone. Go back to the ship with the kid. Keep your head down.”

“I will.” Corin says, then adds in a quiet voice; “and you be careful.”

The Mandalorian stares at him, longer than strictly needed, then merely nods and stalks off.

The Razor Crest is exactly where they left her and Corin feels relieved when he is finally safely on board the ship again. He places the child in the small room designated for it, hands it treats and toys before shutting the door with a soft apology, but he senses bad luck is breathing down his neck and he doesn't want to risk the child getting caught up in it. After that, he walks over to the ramp, sits down, hand on the hilt of his blaster, and waits.

It's not a long wait, but it feels like forever. Corin is so tense he's jumping at every sound. So when the bay doors actually open, his fingers have curled around the hilt of the blaster and almost pulled the weapon out before he sees the familiar shape of the Mandalorian come walking.  
Exhaling with sharp relief, Corin gets up and walks to greet him.

The delivery had gone without a hitch, payment had been made and they waste no time in filling up the ship with fuel and taking off.

-

Once Navion is a small dot in the distance, Corin finally relaxes and the general mood on the ship lightens as well. The Mandalorian gets up from the pilot seat, rolls his shoulders and sighs.  
“Keep an eye on the controls? I'm going to check on our supplies.”

“Sure.” Corin moves over to the pilot seat and turns it so he can play with the child while they travel. He's on their third round of 'which hand is the silver ball in' when the communication system lights up and a voice starts talking.

“Finally tracked you down. Are you going to surrender, or am I going to have to shoot you down?”

Corin spins around and stares at the radar with disbelief; there is a ship right behind them. Where did that come from?  
And what is he supposed to do now? Corin only knows the barest basics of flying this ship, just enough so he can take the controls without crashing it while the Mandalorian sleeps!

“I'm counting to three...” The voice threatens. “One... ” But bad luck is obviously impatient. “Three!”

Just as Corin is getting out of the seat to get the Mandalorian, the first shot hits the ship. The Razor Crest quakes violently, making him lose his balance and drop back into the seat, and several red lamps lights up. He squirms over and grabs the control stick. He may not know how to do this well, but Corin knows they can't just stay here like sitting nerf calves. 

A hard turn saves them from the second shot, but seconds later the cockpit door opens and the Mandalorian stumbles in and heads towards the seat. “Move.”

Corin moves, scrambling over to his own seat. “I don't know where he came from! He just appeared!”

“I know. He's a bounty hunter. One of the better ones. Buckle up and shut up. I need to focus.” The Mandalorian grits out, sending the ship into some acrobatic efforts at dodging the ship on their tail, now constantly firing at them.

Corin makes sure the child is secure, almost getting slammed into the control panel in the progress, before getting back to his own seat and buckling in. 

“Hand over the asset, Mando!” The voice snarls over the communication system. “Last chance.”

The Mandalorian doesn't bother replying, continues his efforts at dodging the other ship, and seconds after that; bad luck strikes and the Razor Crest is hit hard.  
Corin is slammed forward and closes his eyes hard at the pain of the safety belts almost breaking his bones to save his life, hears the child make a distressed sound from its seat as well, more red lamps lights up and the Mandalorian is busy pushing buttons and doing whatever it takes to keep the ship moving.  
The one warning lamp that Corin actually knows what means lights up as well. They have been damaged hard enough to compromise the hull. They are risking a hull breach.

As if he can sense Corin's thoughts, the Mandalorian switches off the warning. “It's just the lower cargo room and it's not too bad. The cockpit is secure. We'll be fine.”

At first he's relieved, but then Corin realizes; “But what about the supplies? Are your weapons stowed? And the kid, his toys, I left his room open.” If the hull is breached, they'll lose it all.

The Mandalorian doesn't answer, which is answer enough. He dodges a shot with a sharp turn.

Corin frowns. He can't just sit there and do nothing and be useless. He unbuckles his safety belts and darts out of his seat. “I'll seal it.”

“What? No!” The Mandalorian exclaims, half-turning in his seat as Corin goes through the cockpit door, unable to leave the controls while trying to dodge the other ship. “Get back here, Corin! CORIN!”

Corin is climbing down the ladder, almost trembling with fear and adrenaline, and soon finds himself in the cargo area. It's not difficult to see where the danger is. There is noticeable damage next to the control box by the ramp door. It's like a black scar, sizzling and about to crack open.

Looking around, he sees a blow torch lodged behind some crate belts and grabs it and a small metal plate. He has only used a blow torch once throughout his life time and hopes he still remembers how to do it.

It's not easy. The blow torch itself works, but the ship jumps, quakes and turns, making cargo tumble around and keeping his balance close to impossible, but Corin is determined. He starts melting the steel together, fusing them, dreading to hear the hiss of air escaping at any moment. He's dead if that happens. He doesn't want to die. He really doesn't! Please, let him have some good luck here.

At one point, the Razor Crest bucks so hard that he falls and drops the torch, but luckily he manages to get a hold of it again, get back up on his feet. and against all odds; he manages to seal the damage and exhales with heavy relief. This is also when he realizes that the ship is no longer acting unpredictably, which means either their enemy is dead or the Mandalorian has surrendered and they are no longer shooting at them. Corin's money is on the first option.  
He leans against the metal wall and sends his silent thanks to good luck for butting in.

Hearing movement, Corin is surprised to see the Mandalorian step down on the first step of the ladder, then the bounty hunter merely drops himself down to land flat on his feet with an uncharacteristically heavy boom before marching towards Corin.

Corin has just enough time to straighten up before the Mandalorian's hands shoots out, grabs a hold of his jacket and slams him back against the wall hard enough to really hurt. “You IDIOT!”

Hearing how furious the other man is, Corin makes no effort to free himself. “But we could have lost our supplies. Your weapons...”

“So we would have bought new ones!” The Mandalorian is so very, very angry. 

“But-” Corin begins, about to point out that they're not exactly swimming in credits right now, but the bounty hunter bites him off with a sharp and furious order.

“Shut up!”

Corin swallows hard. This is it. The Mandalorian is going to kick him off the ship. He realizes he was wrong; he wasn't scared before. This is what being scared feels like. His voice actually breaks when he tries to speak. “I'm sorry. I-”

“I said; shut up!”

Corin nods, trying in vain to lean even further into the wall.

The Mandalorian draws a shivering breath, shifting his grip a little on Corin's shirt, his grip so tight the fabric is digging into Corin's back. “You said you were good at obeying orders. I'm going to give you an order right now. Understand?”

Corin nods, his stomach so twisted up in dread that he feels like throwing up.

“Stop this. Stop running into danger. Stop acting like risking your life doesn't matter. Stop. Okay?”

Strangely enough, the man is now sounding more exhausted than angry and it confuses Corin almost as much as the order itself. He's always been told his life isn't his, it belongs to the Empire, it only holds value if it can contribute. But he doesn't want to anger him any more by asking stupid questions, even hopeful ones, so he merely manages a faint; “Okay.”

The Mandalorian sighs, then his helmet tips gently forward until its forehead rests against Corin's and his tense grip slowly becomes him resting his palms against Corin's chest. It's frightfully close to a gesture of... relief? Concern? It makes what has earlier tensed up in Corin's chest _ache_.

The sound of the child letting out a distressed sound in the cockpit makes the bounty hunter step away and Corin feels his own hands move up, fingers reaching out, as if he wants to pull him back into that, whatever that was, but he quickly forces his hands down.

The Mandalorian stalks towards the ladder. “We need to land to do some repairs. Clean up this mess.”

“Roger that.” Corin says quietly and starts to work instead of thinking too much.

By the time they land, Corin is no less confused, but at least he doesn't think that the Mandalorian intends to kick him off the ship. It hadn't sounded like that anyways. He still isn't sure what it had sounded like, but not like that. And judging by the only half-tense way the Mandalorian grunts his satisfaction at finding the cargo area clean once again, Corin feels a flicker of reassurance.

The ramp lowers and the Mandalorian walks first, Corin follows. It's another desolate place. Sand and barely any buildings. Only a couple of other ships. It's uncomfortably quiet. Eerie.

At the end of the ramp, the Mandalorian suddenly reaches for his blaster, but it is too late.

Electricity hits him, covers his entire body, makes him shudder and shake helplessly, and Corin can only stare with his own blaster drawn as well when the Mandalorian falls unconscious to the sand.

“So it really was you tagging along with the Mandalorian and our mission.” A familiar voice says. 

Corin slowly turns to the left and sees Captain Derge Thilleon. He has a smile as sharp as a razor-blade and filled with bad luck. “Nice to meet you again, CT-113.” 

From behind the different buildings, far too many uniformed Storm Troopers emerge as well.

\- - - 

And a huge thank you to Thorium-draws for this gorgeous art of Corin and the Mandalorian!

[](https://ibb.co/QnDQ5Sq)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad luck. So much bad luck.  
> Then, a family reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thank you to danielle-may-song-harkness for this AMAZING fan art!
> 
> [ ](https://imgbb.com/)   
> 

Fear clenches around Corin's heart like a leash and he looks from one Trooper to the other until his gaze rests on the Captain, not daring to let his gaze linger on the Mandalorian's fallen form. “Captain.” His voice sounds weak and he knows Thilleon can smell his dread judging by the contempt in the man's eyes. If the Mandalorian was good luck personified, Thilleon was bad luck.

“Hand over your blaster, Trooper.” Thilleon orders with the ease of someone who knows he will be obeyed. One of the Storm Troopers step forward and hold out their hand while the rest stand ready to lift their blasters and fire if needed.

Corin hesitates, but he quickly decides that there is no point in trying to resist. Not now. So he reaches his blaster out and allows the Storm Trooper to take it away.

Thilleon nods. “Good.” He then snaps his fingers and points at the Mandalorian and a couple of Storm Troopers move over to check on him while the rest remain focused on Corin. “Secure the Mandalorian scum.”

Corin watches them place a pair of massive handcuffs on the Mandalorian, hides the suffocating helplessness behind a passive face. But then he sees one of the Storm Troopers kneel down and reach for the silver helmet, saying; “I always wanted to know what a Mandalorian looks like under these buckets.”

“I wouldn't do that if I were you.” Corin states casually, struggling hard against the urge to dive forward and make them back off by force. He paints on a faint smile at the Storm Troopers looking his way. “They are very dedicated to keeping the helmet on. There's an explosive charge in the lining under the helmet, set to detonate if someone tries to take it off.”

The Storm Trooper exchanges glances, looks down at the Mandalorian, debating whether to believe Corin or not and he holds his breath until he sees them decide to take no chances and they withdraw their greedy hands. A hint of good luck, at last.

“Where is the asset, CT-113?” Thilleon asks, stepping on to the ramp and moving towards Corin.

Corin takes a step backwards, an instinctive move to protect the little one in his chamber but he doesn't go any further. Again, it would be pointless. He can't fight them all, he's not that good, he's not like the Mandalorian, and they will tear the ship apart until they find the child.

“I asked you a question, CT-113.” Thilleon's voice is so filled with authority it makes Corin feel the urge to cower. He knows from experience there is no reasoning or bargaining to be made with that.

Nodding, Corin looks down at the ground, unable to meet the cold stare from the Captain. “Okay, yeah, just... Let me get him? It'll be easier that way. Better for you to deliver him unharmed.”

“Go get it, CT-113.”

Corin turns and walks inside the ship, hearing some of the Storm Troopers step up on the ramp as well to keep their weapons aimed at him. He approaches where the child is safely hidden from view and feels dry tears burn in his eyes when he opens the small door.  
The child glances up from where it is playing with its toys and makes a quizzical sound.

“Hey...” Corin whispers, trying to hide how this is killing him inside. “Listen, these men are going to take you away for a little while. Just a little while. Then me and your dad will come for you. Okay?” He reaches in and lifts up the child, holding it close and preventing it from seeing his face. “I need you to be quiet and do what they tell you until then. Unless they hurt you.” Corin clenches his jaw for a moment, furious at the mere thought, “If they try to hurt you, you hurt them. Understand?” If he can heal with the Force, surely there has to be a way for him to protect himself?

The child squirms and makes a distressed sound. Its little fingers are digging into Corin's jacket.

“I know, kid. Me too.” Corin is struggling to speak, stroking a gentle hand over the child's head, trails fingers along one ear. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry...” His mind is spinning for another solution.

“CT-113!” Thilleon's voice snaps and Corin starts as if he's struck with a whip.

Slowly turning around, stroking the child's back, forcing his legs to work, Corin walks out of the ship, sees that the Mandalorian is still out cold and beyond helping them, and Corin reluctantly halts in front of the people he once considered safety. One Storm Trooper steps forward to take the child.

“Wait...” Corin draws a shivering breath, unknowingly clutching the child tighter, “you have to... Don't scare him. He's just a kid. Remember that; he's just a kid.”

The Storm Trooper grunts annoyed and pulls the child out of his arms.

“Wait...” Corin follows before he's even aware of doing so, but he only gets to the end of the ramp before the end of a blaster rifle is rammed into him and he's sent crashing to his knees.  
The Storm Trooper carrying the wailing child marches away, followed by several others, leaving only a handful behind along with an Imperial droid to deal with the Mandalorian and Corin.

-

On his knees, keeping his eyes on the child until it disappears behind a building, Corin then sags a little and doesn't really react to Thilleon appearing in front of him. It can't get any worse, can it?

“What is _that_ , CT-113?” The Captain asks.

At first Corin doesn't really understand what he's talking about. What is what? His grief at failing a child he had sworn to protect? But then the man reaches the tip of his blaster under Corin's Beskar pauldron and he warily gazes up at Thilleon. His answer is low and defiant.“It's mine.”

“Beskar?” Thilleon tilts his head, studies Corin, “And you are wearing a Mandalorian armor? You have truly fallen, CT-113. I always knew you wouldn't amount to much, but this? Not only a coward, but a traitor joining hands with the enemy? I suspected something was wrong when you were the sole survivor of your group not only once, but twice. And both incidents occurred when crossing ways with this particular Mandalorian. When they couldn't find your helmet and your chip was deactivated, I knew you had made a run for it like the cowardly womp rat you are.”

In the background, a ship takes off and carries the child away.  
Corin clenches his jaw hard to keep quiet. He doesn't want to give them the satisfaction.

Thilleon scoffs and pulls out a knife. “Hold him.”

Corin feels hands grab a hold of his arms, restraining him, and he struggles in vain as Thilleon leans down and cuts the straps attaching the Beskar to him. Once it is free, he holds it up, studies it, scoffs yet again and throws the pauldron away with a look of utter contempt.

Seeing the discarded Beskar half buried in the sand like trash, Corin can barely breathe. He knows he wasn't worthy of carrying it, but the Mandalorian wanted him to have it anyway and for a little while, just a little while, CT-113 had carried a secret dream that one day he could become worthy. 

A faint groan makes Thilleon and the Storm Trooper look over at where the Mandalorian is waking up. “About time.” Thilleon mutters. “I told them the stupid droid was tuned up too much. It nearly killed him.”

“What do you want us to do, sir?” A Storm Trooper asks.

“Greef Karga wants him alive. Put him on the ship and-” Thilleon never gets to finish his order as Corin suddenly bursts forward and slams his shoulder into him so hard they both fall and tumble together in the sand. Before the Captain has time to recover, Corin is already scrambling towards the Mandalorian with intent and he almost makes it. Almost.  
A Storm Trooper dives into his back and he hits the sand on his stomach. Still, he reaches out and manages to grab the Mandalorian's hands for a moment and then he is yanked away.

Thilleon is back on his feet, brushing dust off himself, looking furious when Corin is dragged back before him. “That was a mistake, CT-113.”

“Why? You were going to execute me anyway.” Corin says. His body is aching from the impact.

“Yes, but now I'm going to hurt you first.” Thilleon counters. He motions for the Storm Troopers to get the Mandalorian on his feet, he appears fully awake now and watching them, before turning to the Imperial droid. “Terminate Storm Trooper CT-113.”

“Terminate Storm Trooper CT-113, affirmative. Which procedure shall be activated?” The droid asks in its mechanical and emotionless voice.

Thilleon glances a final time at Corin. “Start jolts at 15% and work your way up. Report to the ship once CT-113 is dead.”

“Affirmative.”

Thilleon and the others walk away with the deceptively calm Mandalorian, but Corin can feel the bounty hunter's eyes on him and it gives him the strength to brace against the hurt he knows is coming. They were trained to withstand certain amounts at the Academy but he never could get the hang of it. Yet, the prospect seems like nothing compared to the aching loss in his heart right now. He can still hear the child's scared cries... He deserves this. For once, he doesn't fear bad luck.

“Storm Trooper CT-113 of the Alpha Company, you are hereby charged with the crime of desertion and conspiring against the Galactic Empire. Crimes punishable by death. You have been found guilty of said crimes and your sentence will be carried out at the orders of Captain Thilleon.” The droid declares in its monochromatic voice before lifting its metal arm and pointing its weapon at Corin. “Any final words?”

Corin closes his eyes and shakes his head. He doubts his voice would work anyway.

“Then I shall carry out the sentence.” The droid states. “Termination of Storm Trooper CT-113 commencing. Starting at 15...”  
The drone is cut off mid-sentence and Corin hears the whirl of mechanical joints as it turns towards something, so he opens his eyes automatically and sees a blur of shining metal slam into the droid.  
As the droid goes down and the Mandalorian follows like a shadow of fury, Corin watches in stunned surprise as the bounty hunter puts countless holes in it by firing a blaster from where he is kneeling on its torso. Even after it is incapacitated, the Mandalorian fires three more shots into the droid for good measure. 

Finally lowering the blaster, breathing hard, the Mandalorian snarls; “Droids.” He glances back up at Corin. “You okay?”

Earlier, when he had handed him the knife he'd stolen from Thilleon in their tumble in the sand, Corin had placed his faith in the Mandalorian's far superior fighting skills to free himself and deal with the Storm Troopers. He left it up to luck to decide his own fate. All he cared about was making sure the Mandalorian could save the child.“We have to go...”

The Mandalorian hesitates before admitting; “Thilleon got away.”

Corin numbly shakes his head. He doesn't care. “The kid. They took the kid away. On a ship. We gotta go get him back.” He can barely get the words out. Feels the bounty hunter's shock. “I promised him...”

The Mandalorian gets back up on his feet, his voice simmering with barely withheld rage. “Then let's go get him back.”

-

Corin asks the Mandalorian to get a helmet from one of the fallen Storm Troopers. He knows that if he manages to connect into the system again, it will enable him to track the others and see where they are taking the child.

While the Mandalorian is gone for a few minutes, Corin slowly walks over to look down at the Beskar pauldron half-buried in the sand and hesitates before kneeling down and picking it up. Corin gently brushes most of the sand away from the shiny metal, blows away the residue that still lingers before he lets his fingers trail over the smooth surface with regret. He stuffs it inside his jacket for now and heads inside the Razor Crest to prepare.

The Mandalorian returns shortly after and he hands Corin a blood stained helmet before taking his place in the pilot seat and he quickly prepares the ship for take off.  
Corin puts the helmet on, plugs in a power wire he has hooked up to the ship's computer and starts working through the information while they race up towards space.  
In a way, having the HUD appear is like meeting an old friend. All that information about anything he sets his eye on, what he's been craving since his helmet was taken away from him, it seems so irrelevant now. There is only thing that matters: Find and recover the child. He can still feel how it was torn out of his arms, can still hear its cries... He forces the thoughts away.

Corin digs out the information they need to know and locks on a tracking chip belonging to one of the fellow squad members of the previous helmet's owner, one that he can see is nearby with the exact amount of Troopers who had left with the child. He directs the information to the ship's computer and the Mandalorian instantly shifts course and they head towards their target.  
Neither speak until they are within visual range of where the child has been taken.

“A prison transport.” The Mandalorian says, clearly aware of how much more difficult things had just become and creating a plan in his head.“Getting in won't be a problem. They're not built to keep people out. They're built to keep people in. But there's going to be droids and guards.”

Corin places the helmet on the control panel and looks out at the building/ship hybrid floating out there. “Get us inside.” Good luck, bad luck, he doesn't care. They're getting the child back.

Proving yet again how skilled he is, the Mandalorian manages to sneak up on the prison ship, land the Razor Crest near the stern, and pry open an emergency exit, all without triggering the alarm.

Once inside the ship, peering out from what appears to be a supply closet, they quickly discover the place is indeed crawling with Sentry droids and no small amount of Storm Troopers.  
The Mandalorian is checking his weapons, clearly preparing himself for battle, almost appears to look forward to it judging by the waves of fury radiating off him. But that is when Corin has a different idea. He clears his throat. “Can you grab one of the Storm Troopers?”

The silver helmet turns to send him a look. “Why?”

“If I put the armor on, I can pass as one of them.” He sees the Mandalorian draw a breath and knows he's going to object. “No, listen, you know I'm right. I'm one of them, I know the procedures, the language, the unwritten rules. I'll be able to walk straight by those sentries.”

The Mandalorian doesn't answer, clearly not thrilled at the idea but recognizing the advantages of the plan even if he doesn't like it.

Corin steps closer to him to show how determined he is. “I will find him.” He keeps his gaze firmly on where he knows the Mandalorian's eyes are looking back at him. “I promise you; I will find him and I will bring him back.” He tries and fails at a faint smile as desperation forces him into dangerous territory, where he's bound to be shot down: “I need you to trust me this one time.”

To his surprise, the Mandalorian doesn't hesitate or waver in his reply. “I do.”

Refusing himself to fully dwell on the weight of that answer, how much it means to him, how it hurts like hell as he knows he has proven by failing the child that he shouldn't, Corin merely says; “Then get me a Storm Trooper.”

Good luck graces them with a visit and a few minutes later, a lone Storm Trooper is sauntering by on his way to the canteen and he barely gets to make a sound as he is yanked inside the storage closet and knocked unconscious.

Putting the old armor back on, Corin follows his old routine and fastens the pieces with experienced hands that seems to remember the old dance perfectly. The armor is a little tight for his arms and chest, the bodysuit is horribly uncomfortable on top of his other clothes, but it will do. He is holstering the blaster when the Mandalorian holds the helmet out for him to take and says; “I'll be waiting here. If there is trouble, I'll come find you.”

Corin takes the helmet and stares at it. “I won't be long. Be ready for take off.” He glances up at the Mandalorian. “I'll bring him back.” No amount of bad luck will be able to stop him.

“I know you will.”

-

With the helmet on, the HUD lighting up any information he could possibly need, Corin should feel pretty comfortable and yet he keeps expecting to be exposed at any moment by someone. He's walking down hallway after hallway, passing unsuspecting sentries and semi-sleeping guards. No one is giving him more than a half-interested glance, but his pulse is still racing with dread.  
They have one chance to find and recover the child. He can't mess this up! Not again...

It doesn't take too long to know where to look, after overhearing two workers talk about 'the green creature', and soon Corin finds himself outside a door with two sentry droids hovering next to it. He enters and finds himself in another small hallway with four doors on each side and some people wearing white coats wandering around. There are huge observation windows next to the doors. He walks down the hallway and casts discrete glances as he walks by the windows.

Finally he sees him. Corin's heart jumps when he sees the beloved shape of the child standing on a medical bench, ears low and arms half-raised as if to keep someone away.

Corin opens the door and stalks inside, seeing a man a white coat stand next to the child with a data pad in his hand and a trey covered with needles by his side.  
The child makes a sound of pure happiness. The mask is not fooling it for a second.

“What are you doing here?” The man asks.

Corin punches the man in the face, as hard as he can, but doesn't have time to savor the sound of him falling as he's already rushing over to the child. “Are you okay?” He sees it reaching its arms out for him and he doesn't hesitate to lift the child up and hug it close. His heart is beating so hard it hurts. “Don't worry. We're getting out of here.”

The child's nails digs into the armor to hold on, clearly happy to see him, but it also makes a quizzical sound and glances over at the door.

“He's here too.” Corin reassures. “Your dad is waiting for us. He would never let anything bad happen to you, little one. This was my fault. All me.” He glances around, suddenly very aware of how he has not really thought this through. Sure, he has found the child, but how is he going to get it out of there?

Eventually his gaze falls on a black bag discarded in the corner of the room and he glances from it to the child and back again. “You're not going to like this, but I have a huge favor to ask of you...”

Minutes later, Corin is walking down hallway after hallway, grateful to have the HUD guiding him or he'd be lost, with extremely precious cargo in the black bag in his right hand.  
This is crazy. This is absolutely insane! He just walked in, got the child and is now walking back out. Corin just needs his good luck to last a little longer...

He is only a couple of meters away from the door to the storage room when a voice calls out.

“You! Hold it right there!”

Corin stops, eyes closed tight, hoping the guard doesn't notice the light squirming and cooing coming from the bag, or the three green fingers now barely poking out from where the zipper is being opened from within the bag. “Something wrong?”

“You tell me. Your break was over ten minutes ago. Why aren't you back on guard duty, DT-1009?”

Opening his mouth to conjure up some kind of explanation, Corin is interrupted by the intruder alert blaring and the lights instantly flashing red. He spins around, sees the guard behind him put the pieces together and pull his blaster.

There is a shot, but it is the guard who falls and Corin turns back around to see the Mandalorian standing in the doorway.

The child pokes its head up from the bag and squeaks a happy sound.

“Let's go,” the Mandalorian orders, signaling Corin to follow.

Corin follows and by the time the dead guard is discovered, the Razor Crest is already detaching and making a run for it.

-

Corin is kneeling on the floor in the cockpit while the Mandalorian pilots the ship, opening the bag and helping the child out. “You did so good. You are such a brave kid.” He gets up with it in a safe embrace and waits for the ship to enter hyperdrive before he hands the child over. The other man eagerly accepts it back to where it belongs: his arms. The Mandalorian quickly runs his hands over its head and arms, checking for injuries. There is a soft stream of that beautiful language again. The child coos a reply and leans against the touch.

Taking a step back, Corin watches the happy reunion for a second longer, knowing how close his failure to protect the child came to result in true horror, and suddenly he can't breathe. The child nearly died because of him. He turns away and quietly makes his way to the cargo area. 

Once there, he takes off the Storm Trooper helmet and hurls it away to clatter along the floor until it bumps against the wall. He pulls off his shoulder pads and flings them away, heaving for air, tries to pull off his left vambrace too but it is stuck on a strap and he can't get it off. Yanking, making a half-choked sound, Corin gives up as his legs just buckles under him.  
He ends up sitting there like a heap of collapsed armor, trying to get air into his lungs. The child could have died...

Corin never hears him approach, is startled by the touch to his neck, then the Mandalorian crouches down next to him. He has the child on one arm, his other hand now behind Corin's neck, and he gently eases Corin over to lean against him.

He shouldn't, he really shouldn't, it is weak, yet Corin does lean against him, hides his face to the Mandalorian's shoulder. But he doesn't cry. He doesn't. His breath just hitches from time to time.  
And the Mandalorian keeps his gloved hand resting on Corin's neck, warm and reassuring.

Eventually, the Mandalorian pulls back, lets the child stand on its own and the two of them carefully begins to undo and free Corin from the Storm Trooper armor. The child hinders more than helps, but neither refuses it to help. The Mandalorian cuts away the stretched bodysuit and reveals the layer of regular clothing underneath. Corin is too numb to protest or do much more than move as he is instructed, waiting for the judgment to fall.

Corin gets up on his feet when told to by the Mandalorian and the three make their way back to the cockpit. There he is placed in his designated seat and the Mandalorian settles in the pilot seat with the child in his arms, but the seat is turned to face Corin and his voice is calm when he speaks. “This wasn't your fault.”

Corin can't look at him. “I let them take him. I even gave him to them. I thought it would be less scary for him if I... but I gave him to them.” He reaches down for his jacket that is lying crumpled next to his chair, he'd thrown it there while working on the tracking chip, and fumbles out the Beskar pauldron. He runs his fingertips over it a final time and then holds it out towards the Mandalorian.

He doesn't take it. “That's yours.”

Corin shakes his head, still unable to look at him. “I can't. I'm not worthy of it.”

The Mandalorian is quiet for a couple of seconds, then sighs. “The Beskar I'm wearing? That was my payment for delivering the child to my client. I traded him for Beskar.”

Glancing up at him, Corin finds that hard to believe. The man loves that child. 

“It's true.” The Mandalorian confirms. “Of course, I changed my mind later, but where you had no choice; I traded him for Beskar.” He leans forward, takes a gentle hold of Corin's wrist, exposed due to the hand still holding the Beskar out towards him. His voice goes from calm to... soft? “I would not have given you that if I didn't think you were... worthy.” It almost sounded like he was going to say some other word. His gloved thumb is gently brushing over Corin's skin.

Corin finds it hard to breathe again, but this time for a very different reason. He can't see the man's eyes, but he can feel them. Much like he can feel his own lips part in an unspoken invitation.

The Mandalorian exhales, releases him and turns the seat to face the front again, absently twisting free the silver orb to hand it to the eager child on his lap. “Let's just find some calm place to land. I think we've all had enough excitement for a while. There's got to be some backwater planet we can hide on while this mess dies down. Any suggestions?”

Corin flushes slightly, not quite sure what had just come over him, and leans back in his seat. He tries to focus and has to admit he has little to no skills in star maps. “I'm, uh, not really good at... planets.”

“You better start learning then. I'm not going to do all the navigating in the future. You got to do your part.”

At first Corin catches it a critique at his lack of skill, that he's not pulling his weight on the ship, then he abruptly realizes that the Mandalorian just implied he has a future there and marvels at his good luck. “I will learn. Sure. No problem. Y-yeah, no, I can do that.” He absently rubs his wrist where the Mandalorian's touch still lingers.

“Good.” The Mandalorian grumbles. The child peeks over his shoulder with perked ears and makes a happy sound back at Corin and he can't help but to smile back.

-

Unwilling to risk any ships spotting the Razor Crest, they land on the first inhabited planet the Mandalorian deems to be desolate enough. 

Preparing to head into the small town they parked nearby, Corin puts on the borrowed Mandalorian armor when it is shoved into his arms. He hesitates to put on the Beskar pauldron, but the Mandalorian quickly fixes the straps Thilleon had cut and it is soon back where it belongs. It feels dangerously like good luck.  
The child patters by them when they stand in the cargo room and it heads down the ramp to explore the woodland surroundings. Corin follows, slightly worried what it'll get up to if he doesn't and not quiet ready to let it out of his sights just yet, while the Mandalorian makes a final check on the ship before he joins them outside.

They let the child scuttle around for a good while, Corin makes a face when it eats a bug that the Mandalorian reassures him isn't poisonous, but eventually they decide to head over and find lodgings before nightfall. It's nicer to sleep indoors than to keep a wary eye open by a camp fire.

Corin grabs the child as it scurries by him and lifts it up, ignoring its squeaked protests, and towards the town they go. “We'll get you some real food. Something that doesn't... ooze orange. Okay?”  
It might be wishful thinking, but Corin thinks he hears a snort of a laugh from the Mandalorian.  
Glancing over, trying to read his body language, Corin is then surprised to see the bounty hunter come to an abrupt halt and tense up like someone facing certain death.

Looking back at the town they are about to enter, Corin only sees farmers, small and dusty buildings, nothing out of the ordinary, but then he sees what had caused the reaction.  
Walking out from a building, not one, but two Mandalorians.  
One is massive, wearing blue Mandalorian armor and carrying an even more massive gun. The other is smaller, leaner, with gray and red armor and a regular blaster by their side.

Corin had never seen a Mandalorian before he was sent out to kill the one by his side, but he had heard about them, seen pictures, Boba Fett was a legend, and now, including the frozen shape next to him, he has seen no less than three of these mystical warriors. He's about to ask the Mandalorian who they are when he sees how odd the bounty hunter is reacting.  
He is looking from them to Corin and back again, his shoulders twitching, as if he is contemplating just running away. Why?  
“Friends of yours?” Corin asks.

The Mandalorian turns to face him, a move so quick it almost startles Corin, then he says; “Whatever you do, don't back down.” And to confuse him further, he shoves a vibro-knife into Corin's hand, takes the child from him and turns to face the town again.

Bewildered, Corin looks at the knife in his hand. “What...?”

“There you are, troublemaker!” A voice booms.

Corin jumps a little, unaware of that the Mandalorians had approached them and the big one is coming to a looming halt in front of them. He quickly hides the knife behind his back, doesn't want them to get the wrong idea.

“Paz.” The Mandalorian greets the big man. He then nods to the one in gray. “Raga.”

“I was hoping you were dead.” Paz says with a heavy sigh of disappointment. He then glances over at Corin. For some reason, there is a visible double-take at whatever Paz sees and for a moment Corin dreads that he recognizes him somehow. But that is impossible. How would he know that Corin used to be a Storm Trooper? While not as dedicated as a Mandalorian to his helmet, few people had seen Corin's face on duty.  
But, there is no aggression in the movement, merely surprise, so it can't be Corin's past?

Paz moves a step to the right, which places him directly in front of Corin with his massive frame and he obviously decides to looms ominously there instead. Corin sends the Mandalorian, his Mandalorian, a nervous glance, but there is no help to be found there. He is merely staring at the town and ignoring them completely. Only the child is watching them with a curious look. 

When Paz takes a step forward, rumbling; “You look scared, little boy.” Corin's first instinct is to back up, lower gaze and avoid confrontation, but he remembers what the Mandalorian had told him and forces himself to stand his ground.

Then Paz reaches for the Beskar pauldron. 

With the memory of Thilleon fresh in his mind, Corin acts before he knows he's doing. He shoves the man's arm to the side, flips and swings the humming vibro-knife in a tight reverse grip up to the man's neck. The only one who gets to take that away from him is the Mandalorian.

For a second, nobody moves. 

Then Paz turns his helmet a little to glance over at the Mandalorian and says something in that enticing language that Corin has learned is Mando'a. Corin doesn't understand the words, can't really make them out, but it sounds like an amused question.  
_“Gar cyar'ika?”_

The Mandalorian turns his head to look at them and manages to glare through his helmet. He doesn't reply, merely glowers quietly. The child coos happily.

Whatever the words and the lack of an answer means, it results in Paz letting out a booming laugh and taking a step backwards to give Corin his space and free himself from the threat of the vibro-knife.

Relief washes over Corin and he gratefully lowers the weapon. He's under no illusion that the large man could not just have snapped him in half with nothing but his own two hands if he so wished.

“Come.” Paz says, gesturing towards the town. “Allow us to buy you food, outsider. We have much to talk about.”

  
Well, was this good or bad luck?

  


\- - -  
Huge thanks to Braxton-Madcap-art-of-a-diffrent-color for the gorgeous art of Raga!  
[](https://imgbb.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paz takes great delight in tormenting his fellow Mandalorian.  
> Raga is an enabler.  
> Corin defends his position as King Oblivious!

The town is filled by farmers and traders. They send the men in armor odd looks, but as long as they pay; everyone seem welcome in the restaurant in this sleepy little settlement.

Sitting by a table, Paz on his right, Raga on his left, and the Mandalorian holding the child on the opposite side and facing him, Corin knew things could have become awkward real fast.  
However, Paz had kept his promise and bought him a huge bowl of food and even ordered a large glass decanter filled with wine. As Corin still can't shake the old habit of eating whenever he can, because you never know when your next meal will arrive, he is too busy focusing on the food to scan the mood around the table. He simply makes sure that the eager child gets a portion of the food too.  
None of the Mandalorians removes their helmets to join in, but that is no surprise.

“So tell me,” Paz says, pouring wine into Corin's glass, “how did you meet our nuisance here?”

“He, uhm,” Corin reaches for the glass and takes a big gulp, concludes that it doesn't taste bad -strong and slightly bitter- then downs the rest, “he saved my life.” He goes back to shoveling food into his mouth.

“And what did that cost you?” Raga asks, taking the decanter and refilling the glass. Speaking for the first time and revealing that Corin had been wrong in assuming she was a man.

Chewing and swallowing, Corin shrugs. “I help out. With the kid. The ship, some times.” He reaches out for his glass and takes another gulp of wine.

“Careful.” The Mandalorian grumbles. “That's Mando Papuur'gal.”

Corin sends him a blank look, not understanding. He's never heard of it.

The Mandalorian sighs, gestures with his free hand. “It's Mandalorian wine. It's... very strong.”

“He can handle it.” Paz says, a clear grin in his voice. “He's a warrior.”

Corin sees the Mandalorian tilt his helmet a little and everything in that gesture says; 'do you want me to punch you in the helmet?'

Paz merely laughs and fills Corin's glass up. “What else do you... help out with?”

Corin glances from Paz to the Mandalorian and back again. What was going on with all the questions? Why were they so interested in him? More bad luck? “Weapons...”

“Weapons.” Raga echoes amused, drawing his attention. “Is that why he gave you the Beskar?”

Corin frowns defensively, suddenly worried they'd make another attempt to grab it. He takes a defiant swallow from his wine. “I earned it.”

She nods sagely. “I'm sure you did.”

“What about the covert?” The Mandalorian asks, his voice a little shrill and he quickly clears his throat to regain his dignity. “Is it safe? Where are they?”

Paz and Raga exchange glances and then the three Mandalorians switch over to only speaking in Mando'a and all trace of cheer is gone from their voices. 

Relieved that the spotlight is off him, tuning out the conversation he can't understand, Corin finally feels free to go back to focusing his food and wine in peace.  
They talk for a long time, their tone serious, until the food and all the wine is gone, the child is asleep in the Mandalorian's arms and Corin feels dangerously close to falling asleep himself. That table is starting to look mightily good to take a nap on.

“Let us retire for the night. We can recommence tomorrow.” Paz declares, getting up.

Corin feels fine. He _is_ fine. It's just that his legs doesn't appear to be. Or, wait, he suspects it is the floor. The floor keeps tilting from side to side, making it damn difficult to keep your balance!

There is a firm grip on his arm, preventing him from toppling backwards, and Corin hears the Mandalorian, his Mandalorian, sigh and grumble; “I warned you it was strong, didn't I?”

Corin smiles at him. “I'm fine.” He can't quite focus on the silver helmet, but he's fine! He's lucky!

The Mandalorian merely helps him along to their modest, but clean, room. He had been quite insistent on there being two beds, but at least they'll be sharing a room. Corin isn't really used to sleeping alone. He doesn't like the silence, is used to hearing either his squad or his platoon breathing, but the Mandalorian is a more than a good enough substitute and the child is nearby.

While the bounty hunter places the sleeping child in the crib Corin had demanded from the innkeeper earlier and then starts removing his armor, Corin is struggling to get his boots off. Stupid floor won't stop moving! It is a mighty battle, but he does get them off. It's his shirt that becomes his downfall when he tries to pull it over his head and it gets stuck. Stumbling around, muttering in his despair, he hears the Mandalorian's sigh and heavy steps as he stomps over to help him.

A firm tug and the clothing comes free. Unfortunately, with the shirt goes his balance as well and Corin tumbles hard into the Mandalorian.  
Good luck makes sure they end up on the bed and not of the floor. The Mandalorian sprawled on his back, Corin halfway over and on top of him; snorting a laugh into the man's chest.

The door opens and he hears Paz' voice. “You need to... Ah.” There is an amused chuckle. “Fine. We'll talk tomorrow.” And the door closes again.

Realizing what this probably looks like, Corin is glad his flushing face is hidden against the Mandalorian's shirt and he can't stop another laugh from escaping.

The Mandalorian thumps his helmet back against the mattress and lets out a frustrated sound.

Corin rubs his face against the shirt, vaguely aware of that he was supposed to do something, but he can't remember what it was. Oh. Get up. Move. About that...

Getting comfortable, shifting against him, sliding one leg over his and hearing a hitch in the Mandalorian's breathing for some reason, Corin concludes that the feel, the sense, the scent and the very presence of this man is dangerously addictive. Soothing. Perfect. Yeah, Corin isn't moving.

Besides, it's not like they haven't shared a bed before. The Mandalorian survived that, didn't he?

And then Corin is asleep.

  


[](https://imgbb.com/)  
Art by the deity herself; Cac0daemonia!

  


-

When Corin had woken up, he found himself alone in the room, no surprise, and with a hang over the size of the Death Star, an even lesser surprise. He had a moment of horror when seeing the child was gone, thinking for a split second that the Mandalorian had decided to leave him behind after all, but then he saw the man's pulse rifle by the bed and the child's toys in the crib and he relaxed.  
This time there was no M'Jau to help him with his hang over -Why hadn't he listened when warned about the wine being strong?- so Corin decided to do what his old drill sergeant always said was the best cure for all ailments; work out.

This is why he is currently outdoors, sweating, breathing hard and trying to work the discomfort out of his body. It doesn't quite explain why, upon spotting him doing push ups by a tree at the outskirts of the town, Paz and Raga decided to hang around with him. He thought they were with the Mandalorian, but he doesn't mind. He always preferred company when working out, it's nice to have someone to talk to, and while the Mandalorian seemed to hate it when he did that, Paz and Raga are very obliging and interested. Good luck must have sent them his way.

Paz has his arms crossed and is leaning against the tree. Raga is sitting on the ground, one knee pulled up and resting her arm on it. Both are watching him.  
“You look hot.” Raga observes. “Very hot. Maybe you should take that shirt off before you get a heat stroke?”

Seeing her point, Corin gets up and wrings off the shirt, preferring to train in his sleeveless undershirt anyways. When Paz holds out his hand, Corin tosses him the shirt and then jumps up to take hold of a branch. “So why are you guys here?” Corin asks, adjusting his grip. “If it's not a secret or anything?”

“We're here on a mission.” Paz replies, vague enough not to reveal anything but handing out enough information that Corin won't feel completely left out. “You should have a better angle or you could injure yourself.”

Corin adjusts his grip a little more. “Like this?”

Paz tosses the shirt over to Raga and walks over to place his hands on Corin's lower back and hips, making him straighten his back with a firm touch. “Here.”

Feeling the ghost of the wound in his stomach complain, Corin makes a slight sound. “Yeah, I... I got dinged a while back. Still have trouble stretching out at times.”

“Which makes it even more important that you do.” Paz points out, then places one hand flat against Corin's stomach, making him hold the straight position. “Like this.”

Corin nods. 

Paz nods as well, tapping a thoughtful finger on the undershirt covering Corin's belly. “And if it gets too warm, you could also drop this, you know?”

Corin doesn't get to answer as he is instantly distracted by a familiar coo. He shifts his gaze from Paz and sees the Mandalorian standing a short distance away with the child on his arm. Several emotions flood through Corin at once; surprise, happiness, then confusion followed by anxiousness as he sees the angry lines of the man's body. Oh, the man is fuming. Bad luck has arrived.

Instantly dropping himself down to stand on the ground, Corin is about to apologize, though having no idea what for, when he sees the tilts of the helmet and realizes that the anger is not directed at him at all. No, the Mandalorian is angry with them.

“Everything okay?” Corin asks, more than a little confused. What had happened?

“It's fine.” The Mandalorian grits out, moving over to yank the shirt out of Raga's hands and throwing it back at Corin before facing Paz. “I found the information you wanted. We need to talk.”

Paz nods. “Let us go.” Raga gets up on her feet as well. 

Having caught the shirt as it smacked against his chest, Corin hesitates until the Mandalorian turns and hands him the child, which he accepts with relief and no small amount of delight. It's been too long since he held that happily chirping being.

“Go back to the room.” The Mandalorian says, appearing to be looking a little to the left of Corin instead of directly at him. “I'll be there soon.”

Nodding, Corin gives a faint wave of goodbye to Paz and Raga, who both nods at him return, and then head back to the inn, cheerfully small-talking to the child all the way.

-

It takes a while for the Mandalorian to show up, but Corin kind of forgets to pay attention to time. He's found some sheets of paper and some charcoal of different colors and is quite content with lying on the floor and watching the child draw with intense focus.  
Whatever it is working on, it is clearly a masterpiece.

Finally satisfied with its work, the child makes a happy sound and puts the gray charcoal down before pointing at the drawing.

Corin scoots closer on his elbows, tilts his head to have a look. He sees a blotch with big ears, something he has no trouble guessing is the child's effort at a self-portrait and it brings a smile to his face. Behind the child is a familiar figure in gray armor and a helmet, a protective presence. The lines are simple, but there is no mistaking it as anyone but the Mandalorian. His protector. There is also no small amount of love in the effort put into that drawing.

But it is the third figure that makes Corin stare. Next to the Mandalorian, someone in a Mandalorian uniform yet without a helmet. That hair and those eyes, Corin instantly recognizes it as himself. Yet he is drawn like another source of protection, drawn with care, as if he is natural part of this picture.

The child gets up and totters off to inspect his toys, bored with the drawing, but Corin can barely breathe. His hand is actually trembling when he reaches out and gently touches the drawing.

The three of them, together, they look like a... family. Like they belong together. Like Corin belongs with them...

Swallowing hard, Corin sits up and brings the drawing with him. He looks at it for a very long time, can't take his eyes off it, but then the child demands his attention and he very carefully folds the paper and slips it into his pocket. “What is it, little one? Can't reach that toy? I'll get it for you.”

Mere minutes after that, the door opens and the Mandalorian walks into the room.

Corin glances up from where he is sitting with the child and straightens his spine a little. “So, what's next?” He's guessing the Mandalorians have laid their battle plans for whatever they are up to.

The Mandalorian sits down on the bed and sighs. “Paz and Raga are here to retrieve... something. I managed to track it down, but the area is flooded with mercenaries. We're going to have to punch our way in.”

Instantly worried, Corin draws a careful breath. “Let me help. Let me watch your back.”

The Mandalorian doesn't say no, not right away at least. He glances over at the child. “What about the kid?”

“The innkeeper already offered to watch him if we had work or something.” Corin says, quickly, fearing he might change his mind now that he seemed on the verge of letting him come along. “The little one likes her too. I think she's okay. He would have told me if she wasn't.”

The Mandalorian looks at him, silently, then sighs. “It's going to be dangerous. And you might not get paid.”

Corin shakes his head. “I don't care.” All he cares about is keeping the Mandalorian safe.

“One of us has to make it back.” The Mandalorian declares.

“We both will.” Corin counters. He gets up and walks over to him. “I can feel it. Good luck is on our side.”

“You were right about the speed bikes the last time you said that.” The Mandalorian mumbles, a slight smile in his voice, looking up at him.

Corin nods. “I was. And I am now.” He gives him a teasing smile. “Trust me.”

“I do.”

The Mandalorian's solemn answer feels like a punch and Corin temporarily loses the ability to speak. He can only stare, even as the other man gets up from the bed and walks over to the child and picks it up to have a soft conversation in Mando'a.

One hour later, they have prepared for battle, brought the child to one very enthusiastic woman, and Corin follows the Mandalorian out to meet up with Paz and Raga waiting for them outside.  
Above them, the sky is darkening and lighning is flashing in the horizon.  
It all feels like omens of bad luck.

“Ready?” Paz asks.

“Ready.” The Mandalorian replies.

-

Turns out that this time they weren't traveling by dewbacks or speeder bikes or ships or anything sane. No. That is not the Mandalorian way, apparently.

Jet packs. 

And because only Paz and Raga have them, they have to double-up. “I'll take this one!” Paz declares, wrapping a massive arm around Corin's waist and yanking him close before shooting up into the sky. Luckily the sound of the jet pack somewhat overwhelms the rather undignified squawk of surprise and horror Corin makes.

Raga and the Mandalorian are not far behind.

Seeing the ground zoom by underneath, feeling Paz' body vibrate against his back at the occasional air resistance, Corin is doing his very best to claw his fingers into the vambrace to hold on. He turns his head a little to shout back at the man behind him: “You guys are INSANE!”

Paz' rumbling and delighted laugh isn't exactly reassuring. And Corin suspects some of the dips and turns he makes aren't strictly necessary for anything other than to scare the life out him. It works.  
Soon the rain starts. It begins as a light drizzle but quicly turns into a proper downpour. The occasional lighting and thunder joins in as well.

When they start crossing the ocean to reach the island where their target is, seeing the dark waters and the sharp reefs, Corin closes his eyes and just hopes that whatever they are going to fetch is worth it. It better be worth it!  
After a while, he cracks an eye open and exhales with relief when he can actually spot the island. They're almost there.

The relief is soon shattered when bad luck decides to really turn up the heat and a blaster shot suddenly races towards them.  
Paz easily twists them away from it, but more shots follow.  
The security on the island must have detected they were getting company and everyone and their grandmother there were clearly armed to the teeth and eager to take them down.

For a moment it seems like Corin may have misjudged things and good luck was on their side, as both Paz and Raga manage to dodge the shots with cold calculations, but bad luck will not be denied and both Paz and Corin look over when they hear the sound over the rain and thunder.

Raga's jet pack has taken a serious hit and she's struggling to keep from spiraling out of control and not drop the Mandalorian, who is now dangling dangerously over the sea and only held up by her desperate grasp on his wrist.

Corin knows that if either of them were to fall into the sea, they would drown. Neither the Mandalorian or Raga will be able to swim with the heavy armor on. “Do something!” He shouts at Paz.

“I can't!” Paz shouts back, barely avoiding them getting hit as well. “I can't carry all three! The pack won't be able to carry that kind of weight!”

Raga twists, her jetpack sputtering flames, tossing her like a ragdoll, and she must be holding on to the Mandalorian by pure force of will. The Mandalorian who is simply focused on firing back at the people on the island.

Corin struggles, twists around, places his hands against Paz' chest. “Help.” He puts his feet up against Paz' knees. “Them!” And kicks himself away, breaking Paz' grip and then automatically flails as he plunges towards the ocean. He thinks he hear Paz shouting his name, but he can't be sure.  
He hits the water hard, it punches the air out of his lungs, and the weight of his armor quickly drags him under and down, down...

Trying to swim is hopeless, but Corin tries. He is desperate for air, shuddering with adrenaline, yet the ocean and the weight of his armor is too much. He's being dragged down into the darkness.

He is about to give up when suddenly he is slammed against something hard and his hands automatically latches on. Corin can't see, but it feels like rock.  
He must have been thrown against one of the reefs.  
A final rush of desperation surges through him, old survival training emerges, and he begins to climb. His lungs are about to rupture. His head is about to explode. The currently is trying to pull him away. He climbs.

  


[](https://imgbb.com/)  
Art by the awesome A-Militia!

  


-

Moments later, his head breaches the surface and Corin gasps in desperate gulps of air along with sea water. For a second, he merely clings to the reef, coughs and gags, until his head clears a little, and then he climbs a little higher on the sharp rock to be able to breathe without being hit by the waves.  
He spends a little more time on trying to recover his breath, trying to shake the daze off his mind, and finally Corin can look around and discover he's in quite a bit of a mess. Surrounded by the angry ocean on all sides, the island a distance away, he is trying to find some kind of way out of the mess he's put himself in when he sees the lights of Paz' jetpack hovering nearby.

He knows the man won't hear him if he calls out, so Corin pulls his blaster and sets off a shot into the sky.

Paz instantly flies over to him and comes down to hover next to him. “You're alive.”

Corin coughs and nods, giving him a thumbs-up.

Paz shakes his head. “You do not get to call _us_ insane ever again.”

Laughing through another cough, Corin lets the man wrap his arm around him and lift him up into the air.

When they land on the island, Raga and the Mandalorian is waiting for them, surrounded by the fallen bodies of the mercenaries who thought they'd be able to take on Mandalorians.  
Paz lets Corin find his balance, releases him and turns off his jetpback.

The Mandalorian, Corin's Mandalorian, stalks over, grabs a hold at the top of Corin's breastplate and yanks him close. “And THIS is why I don't want you on these things!” His voice is trembling with rage.

Corin coughs.

The Mandalorian releases the breastplate and reaches up to gently grasp Corin's shoulder instead. “Are you okay...?”

Corin nods.

“They withdrew into the bunker, barricaded the doors.” Raga says, tinkering with her jetpack. “The ones out here were the expendable ones. Inside, that's where the pros are.”

Paz swings forward the massive gun he has attached next to his jetpack. “Then let's go find them.”

“This is the way.” Raga says.

“This is the way.” The other two echoes.

It's no easy task to break into the bunker, but they manage. And like Raga said; inside there was a whole lot more heavy and experienced fire-power waiting for them.

Paz' gun mows down whatever is stupid enough to be caught in the open, the Mandalorian and Rage shoot around like deadly ghosts, while Corin merely makes sure that no one sneaks up behind them and finishes off whatever is left behind and could be a threat.  
Paz gets hit twice, but nothing that can penetrate his armor. Raga gets through it unscathed, while the Mandalorian and Corin get hit one time each but are also protected by their armor.

In the end, they stand before a double-door and Paz wastes no time in kicking it open.

Inside is a room filled with all kinds of wealth and displays of power. Everything from jewelry to weapons were placed on pedestals. Massive heads of the most deadly creatures in the galaxy hanging on the walls. And in the middle, a massive desk with a gray haired man sitting behind it, glaring at them.  
All three Mandalorians raises their blasters and takes aim at him.

Corin blinks once, then the three fire at the same time and he takes a startled step backwards. 

The man topples back in his chair and is dead before he hit the floor, but none of the Mandalorians have any further interest in him. Instead, they watch in silence as Paz attaches his gun to the hatch again and walks over to the west wall.  
And that is when Corin sees what they had come for.

On the wall, amidst all other trophies, is a beautiful Mandalorian helmet made out of pure Beskar.

He watches in silence as Paz reaches out and takes it down, holds it for a few seconds, before lowering his head and gently touching his forehead to it. He doesn't move for a while, then gives it to Raga, who does the same. And finally, his Mandalorian too.

Corin doesn't need them to take their helmets off to recognize what they were feeling; grief.  
Closing his eyes, lowering his head, he hopes whomever this helmet belonged to had found his way.

-

They travel back to the town with the helmet gently wrapped up in a beautiful piece of cloth probably worth as much as half a brick of Beskar. They travel in silence.

Once they arrive, Corin leaves the three. He fetches the sleeping child and retreats to the room where he places it in the crib. He knows the Mandalorians don't need strangers imposing on their grief. He is merely honored he was allowed to help them retrieve their friend's helmet. Also, he's soaking wet and exhausted.

Corin gets cleaned up, sees he has gotten himself some new bruises to add to his collection, changes into dry clothes and towels his hair dry as well. Only when there is no risk of him ruining it, does he dig forward the drawing the child had made earlier. It is safely hoarded with his few belongings that he had not brought on the mission. He has to look at it again, make sure it really is real, before folding it back up and hiding it away again.

While the child sleeps and the Mandalorian grieves with his friends, Corin settles on the bed and picks up a book to read up on the countless planets and moons he needs to learn if he's going to be helpful navigating the Razor Crest.

Many hours pass before the Mandalorian returns to the room.  
Corin puts down the book and watches as he steps inside and closes the door behind him. “Hey...”

The Mandalorian doesn't answer at first then turns his helmet to look at him. No. Glare. That is definitely a glare. How had bad luck struck now?

Corin can feel himself deflate anxiously. “What?” It can't be that bad, can it?

“Get up. Come here.” Is the order.

Corin obeys before he can even think to do anything else. His body knows what to do before his brain does. He stands before the Mandalorian and reminds himself that the bounty hunter hasn't kicked him out yet so maybe this won't end in that either? It can't. 

“You promised.” The Mandalorian says, his voice low and angry. “You promised to stop risking your life like that. Like it means nothing.”

Corin shakes his head, needing him to understand. “I didn't... That wasn't...” He shrugs helplessly. “It wasn't that my life didn't matter. It's just that your life means more.” It might sound sentimental, but to Corin it is just a fact.

The Mandalorian makes a sound dangerously close to a growl, then he grabs a hold of Corin's shirt and shoves him back against the wall.

Startled, Corin blinks wide-eyed. And he doesn't get any less surprised as he catches a strong whiff of the wine that he'd indulged far too much of during the previous evening. 

“You...” The Mandalorian says, sounding angry and yet... not? “You're so...” 

There is a ruffling sound, a click, but Corin can't move or shift his gaze away from the helmet even if someone had offered him a million credits. Which is why the surprise is even bigger when he sees the Mandalorian's hand, no glove, his actual hand, come up and gentle fingertips graze by Corin's jawline.

It's impossible to say which one of them makes this tiny, breathless sound. Maybe both?

Warm, dry fingers trail over Corin's skin, trails his cheekbone, brushes against the evening stubble, rounds his chin, an index finger even comes up to run along his lower lip like the promise of something more.  
Corin trembles. His entire body is coming alive. It's like he's on fire from the inside. And nowhere more than where the Mandalorian is touching him.

Exhaling, like he's dying too, the Mandalorian moves his hand to let his entire palm rest against the side of Corin's throat, then slides it behind his neck, curls his fingers into his hair, and gently urges him forward so he can lean his forehead against his.

They don't move for several heartbeats, then the Mandalorian releases him and merely walks over to crawl up on the bed furthest away and slumps down there with a soft snore.

Still trembling, Corin feels his legs slowly give in and he sinks down to sit on the floor. He still can't catch his breath, can't make his blood stop _howling_ , or stop replaying what just happened in his mind. Looking over at the Mandalorian's dismissive back, Corin tells himself that the bounty hunter had just been grieving his friend, was clearly quite drunk and who hadn't done stupid things when they were drunk and missing someone?

Yeah, it probably didn't mean anything.

Corin slowly gets up on unsteady feet and makes his way over to his own bed. He doesn't fall asleep for a long, long time, telling himself; It didn't mean anything. It can't mean anything because Corin has never been that lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to redmetalwitch for this adorable fan art!!
> 
> [](https://imgbb.com/)  
>   
> 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corin leans what 'cyar'ika' means.  
> The Mandalorian defends what is his.  
> And a grumpy green child is getting tired of waiting for certain someones to see the obvious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays to those who celebrate and happy humpday to everyone. I'm still so shell-shocked at the amazing response this story has received and how many has found a place in their hearts for a mere OC. Thank you all so much! I've been stretched for time recently and haven't been able to keep up with all the related works of this story, but know that I appreciate every single one and will devour as soon as possible!

[](https://imgbb.com/)  
Huge thank you to Lovearoundzero on instagram for the **adorable** fan art! <3  
\- 

It is the drawn out and agonized groan from the Mandalorian that wakes Corin up. Still half-asleep, he lifts himself up on his elbow and glances around the room with bewilderment, trying to locate the source of the tormented sound, but then he sees the bounty hunter sitting up his bed, pressing his hands against the front of the helmet, and the previous evening comes roaring back in Corin's memory.  
Quickly dropping down to the mattress again, pretending to never have woken up, his heart pounding, Corin has to replay the flashback several times in his head to make sure it really did happen. The heat crawling up his neck confirms it did.

The Mandalorian makes another miserable sound, clearly as punished by the wine as Corin had been, gets up on his feet, stands there for a bit, then hastily leaves the room.

That's when Corin hears a quizzical chirp and he sits up abruptly to look over at the child, who is standing in its crib and looking impatiently at him. “Yeah. Sorry. Coming. Hungry?” He forces the thoughts of the previous night away and focuses on what needs to be done now.  
-It didn't mean anything, he reminds himself. -It didn't mean anything, you idiot!

When they walk downstairs to find food, most of the other residents at the inn are still asleep, Corin sees the Mandalorian standing outside the building with Paz and Raga. He is surprised to see the Mandalorian wave Corin out to join them.  
He picks up his little ward wandering in front of him and does.

“We are leaving.” Paz informs him. “We have fulfilled our mission and must return to the Covert. We shall inform them that you aided us.”

Corin blinks. “I didn't... do much, but thank you.” He struggles to hold on to the child who seems set on being handed over to Paz. “Safe journey back home.” He hopes good luck is on their side.

Paz nods. “You remember to keep that back straight.” He then glances over the Mandalorian. “And don't be too surprised if this fool gets himself killed.” The clenching of a fist in response to that has Paz rumbling a laugh before he turns his focus towards the child, reaches out a finger to let it grab a hold. “Be safe, _ad'ika._ ” He glances up at Corin. “ _Ret'urcye mhi, cyar'ika be Dyn._ ”

Corin hears the Mandalorian make an angry grunt at whatever that means and the fist draws back to punch, but then Paz is already up in the air thanks to his jet pack and hovers above his reach.

Raga takes a step forward and holds out a small bundle. “We will bring the helmet home. We also went back to bring what we can of riches to the Covert. For the Foundlings. But this is for you.” Strangely enough, she gestures to the both of them.

The Mandalorian looks over at Corin, who awkwardly hoists the child over on one arm and uses the other to accept her gift. “Thanks.”

Raga takes a step back, nods at them, then she activates her jet pack and takes off towards wherever their family is waiting for them. Paz gives them a final salute and then follows.

For a moment, Corin just watches them fly away and feels a sadness that grows and grows until it threatens to choke him.  
If only they knew... If they knew who he really was, he'd be dead. They would turn on him in a second and he doesn't blame them. It just hurts so much because he desperately wants their friendship. He hasn't had real friends since... But a Storm Trooper was and is the enemy and if they ever found out, that is all Corin would ever be to them. That's the kind of luck he has.

“Open it.” The Mandalorian says, clearly curious about the bundle in his hand.

Corin does and the revelation of the gift leaves them both speechless for a very long time. Corin can't even object when the child reaches up and pulls the new Beskar pauldron down to taste it.  
Abruptly snapping out of his daze, Corin panics and just about shoves the armor at the Mandalorian. “Here.”

The Mandalorian doesn't take it, merely shakes his head. “I don't need it. You keep it.”

“No.” It hurts but Corin doesn't have a shadow of a doubt about his decision. “I can't. They would never have given this to me if they'd known I'm the enemy. I can't accept it.” It had been difficult enough to accept the first piece that he'd gotten from the Mandalorian. 

The Mandalorian grabs the pauldron in an almost angry move. “You are not the enemy.” His voice is definitely angry. But instead of walking away with the pauldron, as Corin expected him to do, he merely starts undoing the non-Beskar pauldron on Corin's armor and aims to replace it with the shiny new Beskar.

“Wait...” Corin shifts the restless child, unable to prevent the Mandalorian from replacing the armor without letting go of the twisting bundle in his arms and he doesn't want to do that. There are too many unknown things the kid could try eating here. “It's not right, I-”

The Mandalorian fastens the pauldron with a final harsh tug to interrupt him, then leans in close to declare, in no small amount of determination, something not up for discussion; “You are _not_ the enemy.”  
  
Corin opens and closes him mouth a couple of times, unable to speak, suddenly struck with the ghost sensation of fingers against his skin.

The Mandalorian turns away and sighs. “We should leave too. Paz said there are imperial ships in the vicinity.”

And with that, the discussion is over, Corin realizes. Time to leave. Bad luck is circling them.

-

As the Razor Crest is breaking out of the planet's atmosphere, Corin is keenly aware of the value and the high praise that he is currently wearing on his shoulders. Praise given without knowing the full truth and it makes Corin uncomfortable just thinking about it. Paz and Raga had been so kind to him and it feels like he has tricked them.  
“Hey,” Corin says, lounging in his seat and absently looking over at where the child is sleeping in its seat, unable to let go of the thought of Paz and Raga, “what did it mean? What they kept calling me?” He is now fairly certain it wasn't an insult considering the gift they gave them and finally dares to ask so that he can feel even worse about pretending to be a decent human being instead of a Storm Trooper. “Sharika?” Outsider, maybe?

It takes a very long time before the Mandalorian answers, so long that Corin thinks he doesn't intend to answer, then he mumbles; “Cyar'ika. It's Mando'a.” He clears his throat. “It means... 'beloved'.”

At first, Corin is utterly convinced that he heard wrong. The translation is so absurd it has to be wrong. Then, in a lightning flash, all the weird questions and their interest suddenly makes sense! And no wonder the Mandalorian was so angry whenever they spoke. Of course he found it insulting to be (unwittingly from Paz and Raga's side) paired up with a damn Storm Trooper, with no way of defending himself against said insult without getting Corin killed by revealing the truth.

Sinking deeper into his seat, his face burning with embarrassment, Corin finds himself remembering every single word that was a clear innuendo that he had failed to catch. What in the galaxy had given them such a crazy idea? “I'm sorry.”

“For what?” The Mandalorian sounds carefully neutral, not looking at him.

“That you had to put up with... that.” Corin says, cringing. This could definitely make the Mandalorian decide it would be better to kick Corin off the ship and avoid it ever happening again.

“It's fine.” The reply is flat, but not angry, so maybe he won't punish Corin for it? It seems like he'd rather just forget about it. The ship goes into hyperdrive and speeds off.

Corin spends the next two hours in quiet agony and frustration over how he had failed to realize and correct the situation, but his thoughts are suddenly interrupted by the Mandalorian's voice.

“We need to land. Refuel.”

Refuel? Already? The odd statement snaps Corin out of his thoughts and he sits up straight in his seat. “But...” He doesn't get to finish the sentence because they are already entering atmosphere and the Razor Crest shudders, waking the child up. The turbulence isn't too bad, so Corin unbuckles and moves over to pick up the fussing child. “It's okay. We're just going to make a brief stop.”  
  
A quick glance over at the instruments confirms what Corin thought; they are nowhere near in need for fuel. Huh. But then he looks out at the planet they are about to land on and he forgets all about it.  
Taking a step forward, standing next to the Mandalorian, Corin exhales a smile and can't believe what he's seeing. 

Snow. 

After horrible desert planets and worlds covered with lush vegetation, they are finally going to land on a planet covered with snow. Glorious, cold and wonderful snow!

They land near a middle-sized town barely visible under the thick white cover. The Mandalorian chooses to park in a small valley just out if sight and by the time the Razor Crest has settled on the ground, Corin is already pushing the button to open the cargo door.  
He takes a deep breath as the door opens and feels cold, crisp air rush into his lungs and doesn't hesitate to walk into the knee-deep snow waiting for him outside. The Mandalorian and the child remain on the ship, watching him, but he's too busy taking in the cold and the quiet to notice.

The temperature is close to freezing and it doesn't take long before Corin starts to struggle with his balance. His Snow Trooper boots had once made him steady as a mountain on ice. However, he is now wearing regular boots which have little grip on this kind of surface. He ends up falling, but it is cushioned by the thick snow and he can't help but to laugh out loud at the absurdity of it. That's when he sees the Mandalorian and the child still hovering in the doorway and he gestures for them to come on out and join him in the snow.

The child carefully inches over to hide behind the Mandalorian's leg, while the Mandalorian himself crosses his arms and doesn't appear to share Corin's enthusiasm.

It takes Corin quite some time to persuade the child to join him in the snow, but once it does; he shows it how to make snow-sculptures and small snow-caves, mostly carrying it in his arms so it won't get too cold. Corin also makes a compact snowball and throws it at the Mandalorian still hovering in the doorway, who easily dodges it and offers to shoot him with his pulse rifle in return.

These are hours that will forever linger like a gem in Corin's memory.

But seeing as Corin also lacks his Snow Trooper suit as well as his boots he is dangerously close to hypothermia by the time the Mandalorian manages to drag him inside the building offering accommodations for travelers.

-

The flames are dancing eagerly in the fire place of their room and Corin is sitting cross-legged in front of them, shivering and happy. Corin had been forced to trade his wet travel clothes for his backup clothes the second they were inside the room, his numb hands and trembling muscles making that quite difficult, yet he regrets nothing. The child shuffles over to climb up into his lap, settles and they are both savoring the heat from the fire place. 

“You're an idiot.” The Mandalorian states, grabbing a thick blanket from the chair by the window and walking over to place it around Corin's shoulders. “And you're going to get sick.”

Shaking his head, though grateful for the blanket, Corin grins up at him despite his body's fierce complaints. “I'm f-fine. I just need to warm up again. I never get sick from the cold.”

Sighing, much like he did whenever the child did something to wreck his nerves, the Mandalorian manages to send him a dry look through the visor. “Your lips are blue, you know.”

“But it's true.” Corin insists while still shivering hard. He runs a hand apologetically over the child's head for shaking so much. “When I went through the Snow Trooper t-training, we went through much lower temperatures than this. There were nights when we were huddled together for warmth that I was pretty certain they'd find us dead in the morning, but I n-never got sick.”

The Mandalorian sighs again. Then he steps closer and sinks down to sit behind Corin, close enough so all Corin has to do is lean back a little and they'd be touching. One leg is stretched forward, the thigh against Corin's. For a moment, Corin's brain stalls and he tenses up. Clearly the cold was messing with him after all. Suddenly all he can think about is fingers against his skin.

“Like this?” The Mandalorian asks.

At first, Corin has no idea what he's asking about, but then realizes he is referring to huddling for warmth and he is about to frantically blurt out that he doesn't have to. But for some reason, he can't make himself say the words out loud. Instead he hears himself saying:” Yeah. This... this is good.”  
It's not good for his remembering his position in life, but this is definitely good luck, at least.

The child looks up at him, narrowing its eyes, then it is like a giant, invisible hand lands square against Corin's chest and he is shoved back against the Mandalorian, who automatically grabs a hold of him to keep all three from tumbling backwards.

“Hey.” Corin admonishes the little one. “No pushing. Be nice.” 

“Damn, you really are cold.” The Mandalorian says instead of correcting the child. There is no way he can't feel every shiver vibrating through Corin considering how close they are now and it clearly has him worried. He corrects the blanket around Corin and then anchors an arm around him, keeping him close to help him warm up, like his fellow Troopers once had. But this feels different.  
Very different! Yeah, Corin isn't really cold for much longer. The tips of his ears are burning.

The child makes a smug sound.

They stay like that for a long while, not really speaking much, just savoring the quiet and they slowly start relaxing against each other. Corin even realizes at some point, with lazy embarrassment, that his head is now resting against the Mandalorian's shoulder. But as the man doesn't object to it, Corin doesn't move away. It feels nice. It feels... right.

It's bittersweet when it comes to an end and the Mandalorian releases him with a mumble about getting them some food, but good luck never lasts forever. Corin is just grateful that he got this.

The room has the two beds the Mandalorian demanded, but no crib can be found, which means the child has to share a bed with one of them. Corin automatically tucks it in the Mandalorian's bed, knowing it would feel safer there. However, during the night, he wakes up as the child keeps wandering back and forth between the beds at random intervals of sleep, sighing and grumbling, as if it can't quite settle in one place and is annoyed it has to travel the distance between them. Strange.

When morning arrives, Corin allows himself to start the day under steaming hot water in the refresher room and wraps a towel around his waist before walking into the living room to check if his clothes are dry. He has taken about two steps inside when he hears a sharp clattering sound to his right. Curious, he stops and glances over at the guilty soul.

The Mandalorian, visor locked on Corin, is frozen in the middle of reassembling his blaster and the sound was him dropping a piece of the weapon into the small pile of parts on the table. 

Seeing the odd behavior, Corin glances behind himself, as if to see if there are any charging Hutts there, and when finding none he looks back at the Mandalorian. “Everything okay?”

Snapping into action and turning his focus back to the blaster with a haste that would indeed fit an impending Hutt attack, the Mandalorian responds with either a string of Mando'a or just a mess of vowels, it's too garbled to make out. He seems to struggle to get the piece back where it belongs.

When no other reply is given and there is no Hutt attack, Corin merely wanders over and checks his clothes. He finds them dry, but also his shirt gone missing. Looking around he soon discovers it making its way across the floor like some grand cape, worn by the little child who is trying to make a cackling escape before its prize can be taken away from it.

After a brief battle, Corin manages to reclaim his shirt and can finally retreat back into the refresher to get dressed. (He can almost swear he hears the Mandalorian sigh one of his trademark sighs of suffering?)

Reemerging fully dressed, Corin walks over to look out the window and takes in the sight of the snow-covered landscape in an effort to memorize it all. He keeps his eyes on the view even as the Mandalorian steps up next to him.

“We can't stay.” The Mandalorian says. He sounds... apologetic?

Corin shakes his head. “I know.” He never expected them to stay. He still has to smile, glancing over at him. “Thank you. For this.” No thanking luck, this was all the Mandalorian. A kindness.

The bounty hunter clears his throat. “Don't worry about it. We had to refuel.” He turns away, rubbing at his wrist and mumbles something about feeding the child before they leave.

-

Two days later, while the Razor Crest is sliding through space, Corin is carefully making his way through the cargo area. He's looking left and right, trying not to make a sound, using every ounce of his army training to be as quiet as possible. He knows he'll only have one chance at success.  
There! Suddenly he spots movement and Corin darts forward to climb up the ladder.

The door to the cockpit opens with a whoosh and the child patters in as fast as it can on its little legs, wailing with excitement, just managing to scuttle to safety behind the Mandalorian's legs where he's sitting in the pilot seat before Corin appears in the doorway, hands raised and fingers waggling.  
After he discovered that blowing raspberries on the child's head and neck triggered laughter like nothing else, the game had been on for most of these two days.

Drawing a deep breath, as if loading up one particularly intense raspberry, Corin sees the Mandalorian glance over at him and he places a protective hand on top of the child's head.

Blowing out the air like a deflated balloon and lowering his own hands, Corin scowls at the child. “That's cheating.”

The response is a gleeful giggle from the little one.

“That's being clever.” The Mandalorian corrects.

Corin slumps into his designated chair and scoffs. “I will have my revenge. I'm patient. I can wait.”

There is a soft exhale from the Mandalorian and Corin recognizes it as a quiet laugh and it brings a warm feeling to his chest. He's so distracted by this that he doesn't notice the piece of paper slipping out of his jacket before it is sailing through the air and landing by the Mandalorian's feet. Startled, Corin is about to dive forward and retrieve it, but the bounty hunter is faster.

He picks up the paper and starts unfolding it. “What's this?”

Corin tenses up anxiously as the child's drawing is revealed. “It's just... a drawing. He made. I shouldn't have...”

The Mandalorian absently swoops up the chattering child to sit on his lap but keeps his gaze on the drawing. He's quiet. Awfully quiet.

“He's just a kid.” Corin points out in a meek voice. “He doesn't know...” He doesn't know about Corin's past, that he's meant to loathe him, and Corin just wants to keep it that way. He doubts he could survive the child looking at him with anger and disgust like everyone does when they see a Storm Trooper. “He didn't mean anything by it.” By including Corin in the picture.  
-Please, don't tell him, don't take this illusion away from me, he wants to beg. -Please, oh, please...

The Mandalorian folds the drawing again and holds it out for him to take. When he does, the bounty hunter sighs. “Corin, I...”

A violent explosion shakes the Razor Crest hard. Corin slams against the wall, the Mandalorian nearly goes sprawling on the floor and the child cries out in distress. Red lights begin to blink and several alarms starts to blare. The ship continues to shudder and shake.

“Take him.” The Mandalorian shoves the child at Corin and turns to the control panel.

“What's happening?” Corin shouts in an effort to be heard through the alarms. He stumbles over to the make-shift crib and buckles the child in. It breaks his heart to see the little one reaching up for him as he backs up to his own seat, but he knows it is safer for it there. He buckles himself in too.

“We got hit.” The Mandalorian replies, struggling to control the ship and turns it towards the planet they are currently hovering over. “Someone just shot out one of our engines. We're going in hard. Hang on.”

It is nothing but the Mandalorian's skills and the ship's old habit of being in one piece that allows them to make a crash landing instead of merely crashing. It's anything but smooth and gentle, but after sliding across a mud-plain for quite some distance the ship does come to a grinding halt next to a forest in the middle of nowhere.  
The planet has a dark, almost gray, atmosphere, but breathable air and solid, if muddy, ground.

The second the ship comes to a halt, sparks flying from the control panel, the Mandalorian is up on his feet and running back into the cargo hold. Corin gets up to follow, but pauses as he sees two imperial ships coming down to hover nearby. His heart sinks as he recognizes the emblem on them.  
Joining the Mandalorian in the cargo area, stepping up next to him as he is rummaging through the weapons on display on the wall there, Corin forces himself to speak. “We got a problem.”

“No shit?” The Mandalorian mutters, grabbing a couple of grenades.

“No, I mean, a serious problem.” Corin shifts his weight uneasily as the words makes the bounty hunter turn his gaze towards him. “Those ships, I recognize them. Those aren't Storm Troopers. These are Death Troopers.” The worst of the worst, the most fanatical and ruthless of them all.

The Mandalorian considers this piece of information for a second, then turns to grab an assault rifle and shoves it at Corin. “Get the kid. We're easy prey here. Gotta find cover, higher ground, so move it.”

They move. Heart thundering, shoulders tense, Corin follows the Mandalorian into the forest, holding the child in one arm and carrying the assault rifle in the other. He can hear the Death Troopers shouting orders a small distance away, preparing to follow their prey.

-

They make it longer than Corin anticipated before the first blaster shot comes flying over their heads, but that is also when the chaos starts.  
Corin has been in more fire fights than he cares to remember, but he still feels scared. He doesn't want to die. But, even more importantly, he needs to keep his two companions safe.

“Go!” The Mandalorian snaps, firing back.

Corin goes. He lifts his rifle and shoots back at random intervals when he sees movement between the trees, but it doesn't take long for him to realize that they aren't being hunted, they are already surrounded and being worn down. One of the ships must have landed elsewhere and unloaded a second squad of Death Troopers to cut off their escape. “We're surrounded.”

“Then we punch our way through.” The Mandalorian triggers his flame thrower and Corin automatically takes a step backwards as he hears someone cry out in pain. He feels the ground moving, but he can't react fast enough to prevent bad luck from happening. 

Unknowingly standing by a steep slope, the edge crumbles and Corin slips. He manages to dig his fingers into the ground just long enough for him to swing the startled child up into safety, some good luck, then his grip just slides through the soft ground and he ends up rolling down the hillside consisting of mud, rocks and sticks. It becomes a crazy carousel of pain and confusion until he slams into the ground below. 

Corin pushes himself up on his knees, automatically checking for broken bones but only finds bruising, before he looks up and seeing flashes of blaster shots up on top of the hill. There is no sign of the child.

Getting up, groaning softly at his battered body's objections, he takes a step towards the muddy mess he'd come down, only to quickly realize there is no way he'll be able to climb back up here. He has to find another way.  
Luckily his assault rifle had decided to stick with him during his impromptu slide, so he picks it up and starts trotting, though with a faint limp due to an angry ankle, in search for a way up.

He's startled when he meet the first Death Trooper, its black armor making it difficult to see in the dark surroundings, but ingrained training saves him by his body firing the assault rifle without hesitation. Corin doesn't stick around to check if the Trooper is dead, merely hastens on.

He takes down two more Death Troopers, constantly listening for the sound of the Mandalorian's rifle and is reassured every time he hears the weapon being fired. Still alive then. Still alive.  
It's when he rounds some bushes and suddenly finds himself staring at the oh so familiar Storm Trooper and sees the person in it flinch back and raise their hands defensively, everything screaming inexperience and fear, that is when Corin does the mistake of hesitating. He blinks, pauses for the shortest of moments, thrown by meeting someone in the field who is so clearly green and scared, and that is all the time a Death Trooper needs to appear and fire their blaster.

The shot bounces off Corin's armor, but it does fling him to the ground and he loses his grip on his rifle. It is lying just out of reach. He remains lying down, waiting, until the Death Trooper is close enough, then he delivers a hard kick to their knee and when they go down, he rolls over to grab his rifle and fires point black.

Getting back up on his feet, Corin turns to face the numb Storm Trooper just standing there.  
“Next time, don't hesitate, kid. It'll get you killed.” Corin says, the advice meant for them both, and shoots the Storm Trooper in the leg.

He continues to make his way towards a way back up, still listens to the beautiful sound of the Mandalorian's rifle, but that comes to an abrupt halt when a powerful blaster shot hits Corin in the center of his breastplate, knocking the very air out of his lungs and sends him flying backwards.

Lying on his back in the dirty grass, Corin is struggling to breathe, can't catch his breath. He arches off the ground before flopping down again and he squirms. His breastplate is severely bent out of shape, sizzling with electricity.  
He gulps down small mouthfuls of air, his heels digging into the mud, when he sees a couple of officer's boots step into view.

“Hello, CT-113.” Thilleon says, daintily pulling off his gloves. Two Death Troopers emerge next to him.

Corin closes his eyes, resigned and angry at the same time. He curses his bad luck with all his heart.

“Get him up.” Thilleon orders.

The Death Troopers move forward, grabs a hold of Corin's pauldrons and yanks him up to stand on unsteady feet between them. He's still struggling to breathe, feels like he's been rammed in the chest by a star cruiser, but pure stubbornness keeps him standing.

Thilleon clicks his tongue. “Two of these now? You've been busy, CT-113.” He shifts his gaze to meet Corin's glare. “Our employer will gladly take them as payment for the trouble you have caused us.”

“You will take them over my dead body.” Corin whispers defiantly.

“Acceptable.” Thilleon gestures to the Death Troopers. “Bring him to the ship.”

-

Walking, stumbling at the occasional push from one of the Death Troopers, Corin hears that the Mandalorian's weapon becomes a more and more distant sound. Good. That means he and the child are moving away and towards freedom. Towards safety.  
For the first time, the very first time, Corin is relieved that he isn't considered a part of the family because this means they will soon be out of harm's way. He's glad. He is grateful for that one piece of good luck in this mess of bad luck. If they are safe, that's all that matters.

“If your father had seen you like this...” Thilleon mutters as they come out on the plain where the imperial ship is parked, the one which had not landed near the Razor Crest. “His shame would be beyond words.”

Corin hates how the words makes him cringe, but he knows Thilleon is right. His father would have been furious. Uncle Vecon too. They lived and breathed for the Empire. He doubts either one of them would have been able to forgive him for his choices and his chest hurts even more.

They come to a halt next to the open ship, where a Death Trooper approaches them with the latest report.  
“Where is he now?” Thilleon asks. 

“They lost sight of him and the asset.” The Trooper mumbles in reply.

Thilleon grits his teeth in anger before spinning around to face Corin. “Where is he taking the asset?”

Corin smiles and answers honestly: “I don't know.” Far, far away, he hopes. Where the little one can live in peace with his father and finally be a child without ghost of the Empire looming over it. 

“We'll find him.” The Death Trooper says, secure in his abilities.

“No.” Corin says, still smiling. “No, you won't.” Even more secure in the Mandalorian's abilities.

Thilleon snarls furiously and waves at the two Death Troopers flanking Corin. “Get him on board the damn ship!”

One of the Troopers shoves Corin into motion and he reluctantly walks up the ramp and into the ship's holding area. Glancing around, he sees the pilots through the open door to the cockpit, two more Death Troopers sitting in the back of the ship and soon Thilleon comes marching inside as well.

“Ready for take off, sir?” One of the pilots asks.

“Yes.” Thilleon confirms, sending Corin a final look of contempt. “Bring us back to the cruiser. The ground team will remain to hunt down that thief and our asset.”

Corin feels the ship vibrate as it begins take off. He is shoved down to sit on a bench by one of the Death Troopers and merely leans back to wait for his execution. His good luck was bound to run out eventually, but he doesn't mind as long as it keeps the Mandalorian and the child going.  
He brings back the memory of meeting them, them saving his life, the child's drawing, their recent visit to the snow planet, even the very confusing moment of the Mandalorian's bare fingers on his skin. So much good luck.  
Corin absently lifts his right hand and gently touches his lips.  
He doesn't regret anything.

Suddenly the ship jerks violently, startling them all and makes the pilots chatter frantically between themselves. The entire ship jerks again.

Thilleon stalks up to the open door to the cockpit and snaps; “Imbeciles! Are you two bumbling idiots trying to get us killed?” His voice changes tone from anger to disbelief. “What the...?”

Corin sees the shock on his face, sees how one pilot is tugging at the steering stick in vain while the other is just frozen with incredulity, so he finds himself getting up and walking forward to the open door as well. The ship jerks a third time and appears to be stuck mid-air some meters above the muddy surface.  
What Corin sees through the front window also leaves him stunned beyond words.

On the ground, the little child stands with its eyes closed in concentration and its little hand raised up towards the ship, and next to it is the Mandalorian, standing with his pulse rifle armed and aiming at them.

Corin can't breathe. He can't look away. He can't believe what he's seeing, it goes against everything he has learned in life, it's not possible!

They had come back.

They are here for _him_.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They came back for him.  
> But it comes with a price.

Corin sees them standing there. He sees them, but he can't really wrap his head around what he's seeing. It makes no sense. Why would they... Why?

“Do something!” Thilleon barks.

The pilot on the right tugs helplessly at the controls. “It's no use, sir. Something is... I think the asset is holding us back. It's pulling us down, sir!”

On the ground, the child trembles, frowning in deep concentration, and its little hand is wavering.

Thilleon sneers. “Then shoot it!”

Startled, Corin snaps his gaze over at him, then back at the child and the Mandalorian, and he realizes he needs to get down there. To protect them. Now!

Corin abruptly slams his elbow into Thilleon's face, barely noting the cry of surprised pain at a broken nose. He merely yanks Thilleon's blaster out of its holster and tugs the man into position to act as a living shield between Corin and the Death Troopers approaching from the of the back of the ship, while he blasts rapid-fire at the front window.  
The pilots dives to the sides, curling up in their seats and shielding their heads while he shoots.

Corin sees the first crack appear in the window, fires a couple of shots more to be sure, then shoves Thilleon at the charging Death Troopers and runs forward. He places one foot on the control panel, crosses his arms protectively in front of his face and then Corin crashes through the window.  
He gets to run two steps on the nose of the ship -A blast from the Mandalorian's rifle flies by him and Corin hears it disintegrate someone behind him- before Corin merely jumps forward.

-Tuck and roll, his old drill sergeant's voice orders him at the back of his mind.

Corin lands hard on his feet, the muddy ground do soften the impact a little but it also throws him off balance and he hears something snap inside of him when he rolls, but he goes with the movement and is soon back on his feet and starts to run, slipping more than once on the wet surface, towards the Mandalorian and the little one, both still facing the ship.  
He's almost there when he sees the child fall over in the mud. Cold fear grips his heart tight. No, no, no! Corin drops to his knees mid-run and comes to a sliding halt by the child, picking it up to study it. It makes a faint sound, eyes barely open, but it also gives a faint smile and Corin exhales his relief. Worn out, but not hurt.

Next to him the Mandalorian fires his rifle once more. “Go. Now.”

Corin gets up, shifts the child to his left arm, backing up a couple of steps. “You too.”

The Mandalorian shoves another bullet into his rifle. “GO!”

It's like time slows down. In the background, Corin sees the ship's canon turn and horror strikes once again as he realizes what is about to happen but he can't get the warning out in time.

The canon fires and the sound is deafening, the mud flies up and Corin sees the dark shape of the Mandalorian as he gets thrown up in the air before something slams into him and Corin goes flying on his back as well.

Shaking off the dizziness, quickly making sure the distressed child is okay, Corin sits up and sees that it had been the Mandalorian's rifle which had struck him. He instantly scouts the surroundings and sees no sign of the man. Panic is crawling up his neck and coiling around his throat. Please...  
Corin struggles up on his knees, scanning the surroundings once more, but is quickly disturbed by the sound of the imperial ship turning its canon again, now to aim directly at him. He sees Thilleon looking out at him through the shattered window.

Placing the child down on the ground, giving it an apologetic pat on its belly, Corin picks up the rifle and quickly takes aim. Through the scope, he sees Thilleon's blood-stained face go from triumphant to horrified when Corin shifts his aim over at the pipe connecting to the ship's fuel tank and pulls the trigger, a trick he'd seen the Rebel forces pull during the earlier wars.

The shot quickly ruptures the pipe, fuel begins to spew out, the metal ruptures further, and it sends the ship careening out of control, spinning and struggling to straighten out again, but in vain. Seconds later it slams into the muddy ground and turns into a mess of fire and smoke.

Corin keeps the rifle in his right hand, the child soon in the embrace of his left arm, then forces himself back up on his feet. He looks around and takes a hesitant step forward, aching to call out the Mandalorian's name and hating that he doesn't know what it is. Because he can't be dead, right? No. No, he can't be. People like the Mandalorian didn't die. They were too big for death. Bad luck didn't bite on them. Right? Bad luck can't be this cruel!

Corin draws a shivering breath, taking another step forward, grief looming at the back of his throat and he clutches the child tight. “Please...” He whispers. Not for him. He's not worth this sacrifice. “Please...”

A faint groan catches his attention and he spins around to see the ground moving a short distance away. No. Not the ground. Just a very mud-covered Mandalorian, struggling to his feet.

Corin instantly runs towards him, as fast as his feet can carry him on the slippery ground. The Mandalorian is still straightening up when Corin drops the rifle to the ground and uses his slightly lethargic right arm to capture him in a fierce hug instead.

There is a faint sound of pain from the bounty hunter at the impact, but he doesn't object. In fact, Corin feels one of the Mandalorian's arms go around his waist as well and pulling him in tight.

-

“I thought...” Corin chokes out, his voice not entirely cooperative. “I though you...”

The Mandalorian gives a weary exhale. “I'm hard to kill.” He pulls back just a little to look at him and asks; “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” Corin echoes with a faint smile. “I'm not the one who got blown up.”

“You're bleeding.” The Mandalorian mutters, nodding towards him.

“What?” Corin glances down at his shoulder and sees, yes, there is blood. A lot of it. But he sees no sign of injury.

“How is the kid?” The Mandalorian asks, swaying a little on his feet, looking at the child.

“Exhausted...” Corin replies, suddenly uneasy. He lifts his right hand to touch by the cloak up by the Mandalorian's neck and it comes away soaked with blood and mud. “Oh, no...”  
And that is when the Mandalorian's legs give in and he flops down to sit on the ground with a surprised sound.  
“No, no, no...” Corin places the child in the Mandalorian's arms and moves up to gently ease the edge of the cloak away from the man's neck. Underneath the cloth is a mess of blood and torn skin. Panic is moving back in as Corin realizes that this is serious. The wound is deep and the child is in no state to help.

Fumbling underneath his own clothes, Corin gets a hold of his undershirt, the one thing not stained by mud, rips off a large piece and presses it against the wound. He mumbles an apology at the pained hiss the Mandalorian makes, but then merely adjust the cloak a little so it will hold the cloth in place and keep pressure on the wound. Corin is running on pure dread-adrenaline and his training kicks in again. “How many Death Troopers are out there? Do you know?”

The Mandalorian shakes his head slowly. “All dead...”

Corin believes him. He leans down and takes a hold of the Mandalorian's arm, placing it around his neck and pulls him back up on his feet, ignoring his own pain. “Okay, let's go.”

“Where?”

“Back to the ship.” All Corin can think about is that there are medical supplies on board the Razor Crest.

“My rifle...” The Mandalorian is holding the child securely, but his voice is starting to slur.  
They get the rifle.

It's a long walk, it feels like forever, and the Mandalorian nearly falls twice, but they do make it back to the ship. Inside the cargo hold, Corin closes the door while the bounty hunter sinks down to sit leaning against the wall, still holding the sleeping child.

Corin loosens the Mandalorian's cloak, gets it away from the neck, cleans mud and blood away but hesitates as he is about to cauterize the wound. “Here. Let me take him.” He takes the child away, ignoring the man's faint objections, and places it carefully in its makeshift room nearby, before returning and finishing the work on the wound; burning it shut.  
He knows the smell will give him nightmares tonight. There are too many memories connected with that smell.

Once the wound is closed, praying he hasn't lost too much blood or that any infection will follow, Corin sits kneeling next to the Mandalorian for a moment. The man had grit his teeth against screaming during the burning and now his helmet is slumped to one side and he is drawing short, pained breaths as his body still twitches with the shock of the experience on top of his injury.

Looking from him to the mud-covered and basically unconscious child and back again, Corin feels the guilt crushing him so hard it is physically painful. They're hurt, the Mandalorian dangerously so, because of him. Because they came back for him.  
“Why didn't you leave?” Corin despairs in thin, fragile voice. “Why did you come back? You should have taken the baby and run. You had your chance. Why did you come back?” 

The Mandalorian blindly reaches out a hand, searches until he finds what he is looking for and takes Corin's hand in his, mumbling wearily; “Because you belong with us.”

The words makes him feel even worse. It makes his entire body shiver. Corin can't believe what he's hearing, closes his eyes, can't handle it, has no idea how to handle it. It's too much, too powerful, it's everything he ever wanted and yet can never have. It's not allowed.

The Mandalorian's hand releases his, slides up his arm, curls behind his neck, then eases him down to rest against him and Corin is too weak to resist. He leans into him, digs his fingers into the muddy clothes until they hurt, pulls himself even closer, can barely breathe, can only sense the Mandalorian and the reassuring song of his heart that says the bounty hunter is still alive.

_Because you belong with us._

Does he? Can he? Or will it be taken away from him too? Bad luck has never let him have anything close to this precious for very long. And Corin knows he won't survive losing this. Losing them.

Abruptly scrambling away, Corin doesn't stop until he's sitting at the opposite side of the cargo hold. He takes a couple of deep breaths, forces all the feelings away, forcing his mind blank. “We need to get off this planet before reinforcements arrive.” He can do that. At least, he can do that.

-

The Mandalorian drifts in and out of consciousness, severely weakened by the blood-loss and quite possibly concussed as well, but he still manages to give him sensible orders on what to do.  
Corin is no mechanic, yet another thing he never took any real interest in and left to those over-paid and overrated delivery boys and girls in the Scout Trooper squads, but now he has to find some way to repair the damage done to the Razor Crest and dusts off his basic knowledge.

Luckily the undamaged imperial ship had landed not too far away and taking out the two pilots is easy, Corin has more trouble getting the parts they need free and hauling them back to the Razor Crest. Shifting most of the weight to his left shoulder, refusing to feel anything other than determination, he somehow manages.  
Would it be easier to take the Imperial ship? Probably. But he has no idea how to even start it, it has tracking devices on it and Corin knows the Mandalorian is fond of his own ship, so he will do this.  
He will make it work.

Luckily it is just the one engine and he can see which parts to replace with the ones he has brought from the other ship. He gets to use a blow torch again.  
“We don't need it perfect.” The Mandalorian had mumbled. “We just need to get to limping and we can find some place to actually repair the damage.”  
So that is what Corin does.

Stepping into the cockpit, he notices with a stab to his heart the child's drawing half-hidden on the floor underneath his chair. He'd dropped it earlier during the crash... He leaves it there and settles into the pilot seat, firing up the engines and anxiously praying they will actually start.

Coughing, wheezing, spitting out an angry black cloud, the damaged engine starts and to Corin's even bigger relief; keeps going. Ok. Good. Excellent.  
The landing gear is badly damaged, it's going to be interesting to land again to say the least, but Corin decides they will have to deal with that when the time comes. He pushes the buttons and flips the levers that the Mandalorian had taught him and the Razor Crest shudders once, then twice, then she slowly begins to rise from the mud and soon sets her nose up towards the safety of space.  
Corin has no idea where the coordinates the Mandalorian had given him leads to, but he plots them in, making sure to avoid where he suspects the star cruiser is lingering, and merely listens for any signs of the engine giving out while they race towards wherever they're going.

He's constantly checking up on the Mandalorian and the child, equally terrified what he'll find each time, but they both remain asleep and appear to be stable. But you never know... He can't relax. While the surroundings are familiar, the silence on board the ship is not. It sounds like death.

Sitting down in the pilot seat again after yet another check on the two, Corin notes that his hands are shaking so badly he is struggling to hit the buttons on the radar screen.

It takes almost an entire day, but finally the ship's computer informs him that they are approaching their destination. Corin sees this tiny red moon and feels a faint hint of curiosity as to why the Mandalorian had chosen this place. Another desolate desert landscape with red sand and no life.

Landing does turn out to be interesting and he suspects that the ship's left leg is now entirely busted, but they are there and they are in one piece.  
Corin heads directly to the Mandalorian and tries to gently shake him awake. “Hey...” He keeps his voice soft. “Hey, we're here. We made it.”

The Mandalorian groans quietly, but it is discomfort and not disdain. “Good.” He manages to lift one arm and waves it sluggishly. “Help me up.”

Corin does. When the Mandalorian makes a gurgling sound, Corin has a moment of panic thinking the man is going to throw up and remembers that happening with his Storm Trooper helmet on and that did not end well. Luckily it doesn't go any further than the queasy sound and he manages to get the Mandalorian up on his feet.

“The kid...” The Mandalorian sighs, leaning against the wall, more unconscious than not.

“He's here.” Corin has already the little bundle safely in his left arm's embrace. “Come on.” He leans forward and allows the bounty hunter to place his arm around his shoulders and transfer his weight from the wall over to him. There is a jab of pain, but nothing Corin can't handle.  
They slowly walk down the ramp and make their way towards the three small building clustered together on the sand-covered plains. 

They are a couple of meters away from the buildings when the door of the middle one opens and a woman is standing there with a blaster aimed directly at them.

Corin freezes up, his brain already calculating how to move to make sure the Mandalorian and the child are safe and how the danger can be taken out, but the Mandalorian merely lifts his head and sighs. “I need your help.”

The woman, clearly a Zeltron, doesn't move, keeps aiming. “I thought we had an agreement?”

“I'm not not shot.” The Mandalorian replies. “But I need your help to repair my ship.”

“You look shot.” The woman counters, her very dark eyes, almost as black as her long hair, scans them for several long seconds while Corin's fingers are trying to ease their way towards his blaster, before she suddenly lowers her weapon. “Fine. But you'll be paying for the parts.”

-

She allows them inside the house and makes the Mandalorian sit down on a chair in her kitchen. In every corner there are machine parts and semi-dismantled weapons and things Corin has no idea what are. He warily hoists the child in his left arm and steps in to the kitchen as well.  
“You're a mess.” The woman says. “Did you roll around in mud?”

“Something like that.” The Mandalorian answers, a little unsteady on the chair. “Got nicked in the neck, but it's dealt with. I just need my ship up and running again and we'll be out of your hair.”

The woman makes a doubtful sound, crossing her arms, considering, then sighs and walks over to find a bowl and some water. “Get your clothes off. You know what the red sand does. You'll get an infection.”

“I'm fine.” The Mandalorian says and Corin is too surprised by her forwardness to actually speak.

“Get them off. I've seen you without them before, remember?”

Okay, now Corin suddenly can talk again. “ _What?_ ” He doesn't mean to actually say it out loud and it comes out a lot sharper than anything that can be disguised as casual. They both look over at him. He quickly clears his throat. “I mean, how do you two know each other?”

“I found him more dead than alive out in the desert once. Shot up real bad then too.” The woman says, filling the bowl up with water and Corin is trying not to stare as the Mandalorian unfastens his cloak and lets it fall to the floor. “Is the child well?” She asks.

Corin automatically turns his body a little to keep himself between her and the little one. “He's fine. He's just sleeping.”

“Good. Then place it somewhere it can continue sleeping and help me clean up this mess of a man.” The woman orders.

Corin blinks, wanting to argue for half a second, then remembers his place and does as he's told. If the Mandalorian trusts this woman enough to go to her for help, to allow her to tend to his wound, surely she is in her rights to call the shots. He places the child on a soft sofa in the living room next to the kitchen, surrounds the sleeping child with pillows to make sure it won't roll off it in its sleep, then heads back to the kitchen.

The Mandalorian hasn't exactly stripped down but he has loosened his collar so his entire neck and a little skin below it is on display.

Corin stumbles -Where did that doorstep come from?- and clears his throat again as he approaches. “What do you need me to do?”

The woman hands him a wet cloth. “You did good cleaning and burning it. Now clean the rest up and I'll wrap it.” She moves over to rummage in some box.

Corin hesitates, but the Mandalorian merely tilts his helmet away a little and bares the area and he forces himself to act like the professional he is. He draws the wet cloth over the skin, carefully circling the burned area instead of going over it, washing away dirt and crusted blood, revealing more and more of the golden skin under it. Moving the cloth a little up on the side of his neck, Corin can see the hint of dark stubble where the skin disappears under the helmet and for some reason he can't look away. Dark stubble. Dark hair, then? The Mandalorian has dark hair?

“That's good.” The woman's voice says and Corin jumps back with a guilty look, but she doesn't even glance his way as her focus is on covering the burn wound. “Outside, the building to the left. You can stay there until we get your ship fixed. But you're going to need to clean it out. You can put things in the yard.” She pauses to send him a sharp look. “Don't break my stuff.”

Nodding, Corin is almost eager to get out of the room and be useful instead of doing or saying something stupid. “The child...?”

“I'll keep an eye on him.” She says, back to focusing on the wound and places a hand on the Mandalorian's shoulder to keep him from toppling over. “I suggest you hurry. This one probably needs rest too.”

Corin nods and walks out and crosses over to the small, circular building she mentioned. Opening the door, he stands staring for several seconds. There is only the one room with one tiny window, but there is scrap everywhere. It's like a junkyard in there! Sighing, he steps inside and gets to work.

-

It takes Corin close to two hours to clear out the mess, piling it carefully against the outside wall of the main-building, but he also has to battle layers of dust, sand and things he'd rather not think about before even considering bringing the Mandalorian and the child there.  
The woman inspects his work twice over the two hours, brings him clean blankets, but otherwise sticks near the Mandalorian and the sleeping child and leaves the heavy work to Corin.

By the time Corin appears in the doorway and is ready to bring the two to their temporary residence, he's exhausted and aching and awfully twitchy. Still, he merely picks up the child, places it in the safe embrace of his left arm and has to help the Mandalorian get up on his feet and support him as they walk out of the woman's house.

Stopping in the doorway to their lodging, the Mandalorian actually lets out a faint snort of a laugh.

Corin glances up at his helmet. “What?”

The bounty hunter shakes his head a little, as if it is a private joke. “One bed. Of course there is only one bed.”

Frowning confused, Corin wonders just how bad the concussion is. Yes, there is only one bed, there wouldn't really be room for another, but he doesn't see why that is funny. Also, he did manage to piece together a make-shift crib out parts from the woman's hoard, so there is that too. He had cleaned out everything else. Besides, he knows he won't be sleeping. “I think you need to lie down.”

The Mandalorian sounds groggy yet amused when he answers. “I think you might be right.” He's definitely unsteady on his feet and groans when Corin lowers him to lie on the bed and helps him get comfortable. 

After that, Corin changes the still sleeping child's muddy blanket for a clean one and lowers him into the crib to rest there.  
Looking at the child for a little while, needing to reassure himself that he is doing well, he's a tough little one, Corin soaks in the sight, memorizes it, then turns around and is surprised to see that the t-visor on the Mandalorian's helmet is facing him. Is he looking at Corin?  
Maybe the Mandalorian is worried that Corin isn't painfully aware of the fact that this is his fault? He knows. He can't look at either of them without knowing. Without feeling the guilt.

“I'll just, uh...” Corin points towards the door and absently notes that his hand is still shaking. “You get some rest.”

“Come here.” The Mandalorian says.

Corin twitches. His instinct to follow orders is battling his instinct to flee. “I...”

“Come here.”

Corin obeys. He walks over and when the Mandalorian gestures to the mattress next to him, Corin sighs and lies down next to him. It's awkward and wrong and he should get up and do something and be useful for once and make up for what they had gone through to save him and there is no need for him to rest as he feels fine so he can just get started on repairing the Razor Crest and...

His thoughts are shattered when the Mandalorian's gloved hand takes a hold of Corin's wrist and lifts his hand up to look at it. They both observe the continuous trembling for a moment, but then Corin carefully pulls his hand free, folding it against his chest, embarrassed that he can't even stop himself from shaking and tries even harder to make his mind blank and his body quiet. “Sorry.” He rolls over on his left side, his back toward the other man and his face towards the crib.  
The Mandalorian shifts behind him, moves over on his side to face Corin's back. And to Corin's surprise, he suddenly feels gloved but gentle fingers brush through his hair.

“It's okay.” The Mandalorian says quietly.

Corin shakes his head. It's not. It never is. It's either good or bad luck. It's never just okay.

“It's okay. We're okay. You hear me?” The Mandalorian says and continues to draw his fingers through Corin's hair. Soothing. Calming. “It's okay.”

A thousand voices from his past are whispering in Corin's head all the reasons why it's not okay, but every brush of the fingers seems to quiet one after the other and he finds himself growing sleepy.

A soft coo catches their attention. When Corin sees the drowsy child standing up in its crib and soon climbing over the edge, he means to get up to help it, but the Mandalorian's arm holds him down and seconds later the little one is climbing up on their bed. It makes its way to where it can curl up against Corin's chest and when the Mandalorian takes Corin's hand, places it on the child's back and holds his own over it, the little one makes a content coo and flicks its ears once before its asleep again, appearing to be exactly where it wants to be.

Corin can't help himself and leans down to ever so carefully press his lips to the child's head, feeling the soft tufts of hair and the warm skin.

_You belong with us._

They came back for him. They didn't leave him behind, they didn't merely replace the faceless drone, no, they came back and they fought for _him_. Corin doesn't understand, isn't worthy of them, but they want him here.

-

The next morning, Corin wakes up, lying on his back, the child sleeping and drooling on his stomach, and the Mandalorian snoring softly next to him. It makes absolutely no sense why this puts the most idiotic smile on Corin's face, but it does.  
He gently moves the child over to the bounty hunter and gets out of bed. Corin's body is howling with complaints so he carefully eases his muscles into use as he prepares for the day. He is almost ready, just drawing his left hand through his hair in an effort to tame it and absently wondering if Liita has something he can borrow to cut it with, when he hears the Mandalorian sitting up on the bed with a faint grumble.  
“Morning.” Corin turns to face him. “I'll bring you some food You probably should rest some more.”

The Mandalorian sighs. “I can walk over there, you know.” 

“I know.” Corin heads towards the door. “I'll be right back.”

“You'll have to make your own food. I'm busy.” Liita says as he enters. She's sitting in the living room and working on some engine. “Don't mess up my kitchen.”

Corin bites his tongue to keep from pointing out the amount of iron scrap in the kitchen as well, knowing she's showing them kind hospitality and that food is usually scarce on desert planets. Another reason why he hates these sand-covered hell-holes. “Right. Thanks.”

He quickly scrounges together a meal and brings it back to their lodgings. Placing the plate on the bed and picking up the child, Corin nods. “Eat. You need to regain your strength. We'll be inside.”

The Mandalorian sighs again. “Thank you.”

Returning to the main-building, Corin finds some food for himself and the now somewhat awake child. Liita continues to work and ignores them. He is about done eating and the child is wandering around exploring the different items on the floor when the door opens and the Mandalorian enters.  
The bounty hunter nods a greeting to Liita, which she returns, then he enters the kitchen as well and puts his plate on the table before sitting down on the other chair.

“Feeling better?” Corin asks, getting up and cleaning away the traces of the meal. A good soldier knows to keep his surroundings in order. Saves time and can save your life.

“Yeah.” The Mandalorian glances briefly at the child, who is chewing on something that probably was alive at one point, then turns his attention back to Corin. “Thank you. For the food. For...”

“Thank her.” Corin says, absently pointing at Liita with his left hand. “It's her food.”

The Mandalorian is quiet for a while, watches him work, then when Corin is just about done and reaches down to pick up the child, the bounty hunter speaks again.  
“Are you okay?”

“Me?” Corin settles the child in the embrace of his left arm. “I'm fine. Why?”

“Put the kid down.”

It sounds like an order, so Corin automatically does without thinking about it. He only tenses a little when the Mandalorian gets up and walks over to him. There is something about the way he keeps his shoulders that tells Corin that the man is not happy for some reason.

“You're fine?” The Mandalorian asks.

“Yes?” Corin replies. But then the Mandalorian reaches out his hand, places it on top of Corin's right shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. Raw pain suddenly explodes and Corin can't hold back a cry as he automatically buckles a little to get away from the grip. Taking a step back, he forces himself to straighten back up and he braces himself against the pulsating pain that follows the touch.

“Let me see.” The Mandalorian says, but it's clearly not up for debate.

Corin sighs and pulls off his shirt, accidentally dragging his undershirt with it and is in too much pain to separate it so he just takes it all off and bares his entire torso. “It looks worse than it is.” The skin is dark purple, there is more swelling than he likes, but it'll be fine. “It's just my collarbone. It's nothing. I've broken it twice before and it didn't even slow down my training.”

The Mandalorian's hands clench into tight fists and then opens, again and again, like he can't decide whether he wants to hug Corin or slap him over the head. “You...”

“I'll be fine.” Corin reassures him. He steps closer and to change the attention to what is important, he gently eases the collar away from the Mandalorian's neck. “How's this?” 

“Healing.” The man answers, his voice strangely hoarse and his body very still.

Corin can't take his eyes away from the vulnerable neck and the skin he can see. He suddenly finds himself remembering how the wrist had felt like against his lips. He wonders if the Mandalorian's pulse would race as frantically as before if Corin placed his mouth to the man's neck...

“We should head to the ship.” Liita's voice says. “Check out the damage.”

Starting, Corin jumps away and spins around to face her. “Sure. Yeah. Now? Okay. Let's me just-” He scrambles to get fully dressed again, ignoring the still burning pain in his shoulder, and is out of the building before he can think about how close he'd just come to ruining everything by being a thoughtless idiot.

-

In the medical bay of the cruiser, the doctor places the final bacta patch on top of the burned skin and is about to declare his work done when the door opens and someone comes marching in.  
“It is true?” A voice asks.

Thilleon, numbed by drugs and riled up by anger, turns to face him. “They got away. The asset... It's stronger than we thought.” He hisses softly as the pain cannot be numbed entirely. “It pulled my ship down!” He sits up. “The bounty hunters are chasing the Mandalorian. Mercenaries and vigilantes have been offered a reward for the rogue CT-113. They can't hide for long. We'll find them. I won't fail you again!”

“You're right. You won't.” Moff Gideon says and shoots him.

Turning around and marching back out of the medical bay, Gideon is gritting his teeth in raw fury. 

If the Mandalorian thought he could steal from Gideon and get away with his prized possession, he was to be proven very wrong. If someone took something from Gideon, he took something from them.  
“Set course for Nevarro! Let us show those Mandalorians what happens when you go against the will of Moff Gideon.”

-  
Huge thank you to Lanaisdrawing on AO3 for the gorgeous art of Corin and the little one! <3 And I do heartily suggest you check out her 'I'm fine'-artwork for a good laugh as well as it is quite relatable to this chapter! ;) 

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corin keeps trying to tell everyone he's fine.  
> The Mandalorian tries to make him realize he isn't, except in all the dangerous ways.
> 
> Moff Gideon's plan has consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A HUGE thank you to cac0daemonia for the incredible art we have all been blessed with! Set in chapter 6, the muddy aftermath of nearly losing each other, such a tender and gorgeous moment!
> 
> [](https://imgbb.com/)  
>   
> 

His haste to escape the kitchen leads to Corin having to wait for several minutes before Liita finally comes walking out of the building.

“I'm bringing the dust-sleigh in case we need to move some parts. The Mandalorian made it clear not to let you carry anything heavy.” Liita walks over to what looks like a thick metal board, presses some buttons on a small control panel at the front and it activates to hover about knee-height over ground. “Come.” She starts walking and the board follows.

“I can carry stuff. I'm fine.” Corin objects weakly, trailing after her, not sure why the Mandalorian would say otherwise. It's just pain. A little bit of bad luck. He can still be useful.

“He said you'd say that.” Liita replies, eyes focused on the ship in the distance.

Corin resigns with a sigh and merely trudges after her.

They are almost by the ship when Liita finally looks over at him, scans his face and says; “You are very pretty.” 

It is said more like a dry fact than a compliment and it is so utterly unexpected that Corin doesn't quite know what to say to that. “Er, thank you?”

Liita continues to scan him. “Earlier, with your shirt off, I saw you're pretty all over.”

Okay, that was even more unexpected. Corin flails for the right thing to say. “I, uh...”

She turns her focus back to the ship. “I guess that's why he decided to keep you. Men are always weak for pretty things.”

Corin is a little offended, as he's usually not this useless, until he abruptly realizes she thinks he and the Mandalorian are a couple and then he's just plain embarrassed. “We're...” But if he contradicts her, will she try her luck with the Mandalorian? If she's seen the bounty hunter without his clothes, there has to be some history between them. For some reason, Corin does not like that thought. At all. “I help out with the ship and the kid too, you know.” It's not like he's confirming anything. He can't be blamed or held responsible for whatever crazy ideas she conjures up on her own, right?

“Yeah, I saw you're a decent worker, cleaning out the lodge,” Liita comments, “but my guess is that wasn't what he first noticed about you.” 

No, the first thing he noticed was his Storm Trooper armor. Corin feels a knot of unease twist in his belly at the thought. If only she knew... “You're probably right about that.”

They reach the Razor Crest and Liita spends some time checking out the damage. She pauses, crouched on top of the somewhat repaired engine. “Who did this?”

Corin, sitting on the dust sleigh and waiting to be told what to do, looks up at her. “I did.”

She makes a thoughtful sound, tapping the metal with something. “I'm amazed you guys didn't blow up on the way.”

Corin cringes. “I'm not a mechanic...”

“I can see that.” She gets up and starts climbing down to the ground again. “But you got them here. So, not bad. Though, your welds makes me want to hurt you.”

Reeling at the weird mix of compliments and insults, Corin shakes his head a little. “So, uh, what's next?”

“Now we dismantle what needs to be fixed or thrown away and bring them back to the house.” Liita pauses and glances over at him. “And remember; no heavy lifting for you.”

To Corin's annoyance, Liita watches him like a hawk and at one point, where he's reaching out to lift up a box filled to the rim with parts, she actually smacks him over his fingers. While he is sorely tempted to point out that he is no damn child, that he is damn well capable of lifting heavy things, he suspects it would be pointless. Also, he's there to obey orders, not to whine.

When the dust-sleigh is loaded, Corin adjusts a final strap and turns to look at Liita standing by the cargo door. “Ready?”

“Wait.” She turns around and heads into the ship. “I need one more thing.”

Corin waits, sparing a quick glare of hatred up at the sky as one sun isn't enough for this shitty desert planet, no, it has three! But he doesn't have to wait too long and soon they are making their way back.

-

The Mandalorian is waiting for them as they approach the building. The child is sleeping in his right arm's embrace. “How bad is it?”

Liita shrugs. “Bad.” She maneuvers the dust-sleigh over to hover next to the main building. “But nothing I can't fix. Temporarily.”

“Good.” The Mandalorian says, then adds; “Did you find it?”

“Yeah. In the cockpit. Like you said.” Liita digs into one of the massive pockets on her baggy pants and pulls out a folded sheet of paper.

Corin recognizes it with a jolt of surprise. It's the child's drawing. The one he'd drawn for Corin.

“Thank you.” The bounty hunter says before sliding the paper into his own pocket.

It surprises Corin a little to feel a sting of sadness at that. It's stupid, but he has few possessions of his own and the thought of how the child had made it for him, had included him in the drawing, it had made it special to him. He hadn't meant to leave it like that, in the cockpit, under his chair, it was just... Corin can barely remember his own logic at the time, messed up by fear and adrenaline. Still, that was no excuse for not looking after it. A suitable punishment. Serves him right.

“Let's get to work.” The Mandalorian says and they all move over to the dust-sleigh to start working on what needs to be done to get the Razor Crest back in shape.

It's only the third sun left when they decide to quit for the day. Aside from some breaks to eat and drink, they have been working non-stop and Corin suspects they will have the ship functional again a lot faster than he thought. Liita might be weird, but she knows her stuff and the Mandalorian is quite the skilled mechanic unlike Corin.

Back at the house, Liita is trying to get the child to let go of something it is currently chewing on in the living room while Corin makes the Mandalorian have a seat in the kitchen to check on his wound. Corin fills up the bowl with water and grabs a clean cloth while the bounty hunter removes his cloak and starts loosening the collar to reveal the bandage under it.

When the Mandalorian tilts his head to give him access, it's not a surprise to find the bandage damp with sweat and stained with both red sand and a small amount of red blood. Corin carefully removes the bandage before he starts dabbing the clean cloth gently at the wound and around it.

Disregarding the injury, it's a nice neck, Corin concludes absently, sliding the cloth over the unharmed skin. Strong, warm and so very... male. It's definitely dark stubble there. The bounty hunter shifts slightly. Corin notices the pulse is fluttering under the golden skin much like it had felt against his lips when he'd pressed them against the man's wrist, and he's so lost staring at it that Corin is startled at the sudden feeling of the Mandalorian's hand taking a hold of Corin's left hip.

At first Corin thinks it is a correction, a reminder to get on with business, but he quickly recognizes the grip as an anchoring move instead. And now that he looks, the man seems a little unsteady in his seat. Tired? He focuses and tries to finish the cleaning quicker, feeling the Mandalorian's fingers tighten from time to time, concluding the cleaning is probably more painful than Corin realized.  
“Sorry.” He mumbles, annoyed at himself for getting distracted.

“No, it's... I'm good. It's all good.” The Mandalorian mumbles back, clearing his throat.

Corin finishes and covers the wound again. “There.” He tugs a little at the collar to cover the throat once more, feels the back of his fingers brush against the rough stubble and a wave of heat rushes up his spine. Oh no. Bad. Bad good luck! “All done. You're good to go.” Corin blurts out.  
He then, there is no other word for it, flees the kitchen, grabbing the child on the way out, ignoring its offended squawk and the pain in his shoulder, and merely hurries towards the exit. “I'm putting the child to bed.”

He doesn't stop until he steps inside their temporary lodging and sees what is waiting for him.

Pinned with care to the wall, above the bed, is the child's drawing of the three of them together.

The little one makes a happy sound and points at it while Corin can't remember how to breathe.  
He does, however, remember how to smile.

-

Corin's collarbone hurts so he doesn't get much sleep that night. Of course, it doesn't help that the Mandalorian is just... there, sleeping next to him. It's slowly driving Corin crazy.

Everything has changed. He has what he so desperately craved, even without knowing it.  
He has a place there with them. (Assuming he doesn't mess it up.) He's welcome.

So, why does he still want more? Why can't he just be satisfied after being granted this?  
Why does he look at the Mandalorian and feels his fingers twitch with the urge to reach out and touch? Why is he constantly brought back to the feeling of the man's wrist against his lips? Why is he obsessing over the stubble and the heat of his neck? This is ridiculous. And not an option. The Mandalorian is so far out of his league it's almost funny. He needs to stop. Shut it down. Right now. 

This is probably why bad luck keeps punishing Corin. He's too greedy.

Getting up while the bounty hunter and the child are asleep, Corin decides to get started on his work-out routine. It's not like he's going to get any more sleep anyway.  
It's nice and cool outside of the lodge, only one sun is up, so he decides to start with sit-ups.

Later, Corin is in the middle of his fifth push-up, they're a lot harder using just one arm, when the Mandalorian steps out of the building and stops in his tracks at the sight of him a couple of meters away. Bad luck For a moment, the bounty hunter just stares then he snaps; “What are you doing?”

Corin looks up at him, swallows, then carefully lowers his right hand down to the ground and takes up the proper stance. He had hoped to be finished before he was discovered, so that he could cheat a little and not use his injured arm. It really hurts and his fingers feel a little numb. But the Mandalorian is right. He shouldn't let his standards slip. His old sergeant had told him how important it was to do things right and to work through the pain.  
He grits his teeth and lowers himself, feeling the pain flare up like crazy, but he is surprised by the Mandalorian darting forward and kneeling down to grab a hold of his uninjured arm and preventing him from continuing. 

“Stop! You're... Dammit, Corin, stop!”

Confused, Corin lets him tug him up and into a sitting position. “What's wrong?”

“You have a broken collarbone!” The bounty hunter hisses, as if Corin isn't perfectly aware of it.

“Yes.” Corin says, wondering if the concussion had scrambled the man's head a little bit. “And?”

The Mandalorian exhales, he sounds dangerously frustrated, and he has to visibly force himself calm. “Listen... If it hurts, I want you to stop. Always. Whatever you're doing.” Despite how Corin draws a breath to explain that it is no problem, pain can be ignored and he's learned how, the bounty hunter continues. “I want you to promise me. I know you can push through the pain, but I don't want you to. I don't care what they told you. I want you to stop. Okay? And tell me when it hurts.”

Stunned, Corin has no idea how to respond to that. And it's made even worse when the Mandalorian's hand leaves his arm and comes up to cup the side of his neck.

“Can you do that?” The bounty hunter asks.

Corin still can't speak, but he gives a faint nod. He'll do whatever the man asks of him, surely he must know that by now? Even things that makes absolutely no sense to Corin, like this request.

The Mandalorian sighs, then leans forward. The silver helmet gently meets Corin's forehead and lingers there.

Corin hadn't pondered too much about this gesture at first, but after seeing how Paz and Raga had done the same with reverence to their fallen friend, he had come to realize it was a Mandalorian thing and he's secretly delighted that his Mandalorian is willing to share this part of his culture with him. He wants so badly to be worthy of this honor.

So Corin leans into the gesture instead of just accepting it. He then feels the Mandalorian's fingers twitch ever so slightly against his neck and hears how his breath suddenly hitches. After a moment's hesitation, the bounty hunter reaches his free hand up to cup the other side of Corin's neck as well, his thumb slowly brushing along Corin's jawline.

It's like magic, like the Force, Corin can feel his eyes drifting shut and the tension leaving his body.  
It could almost feel as if...

“We need to get back to work...” The Mandalorian whispers, out of the blue, and pulls away.

Corin shivers, has to force himself to open his eyes and swallows down whatever words are threatening to spill out. An act of kindness, this. Nothing more. Stop dreaming. He nods.  
Back to work, soldier.

-

Liita finishes her work on the engine. It takes both her and the Mandalorian and some inventive engineering to lift the ship to fix the landing gear. Corin gets stuck either watching the child or doing light duties. It makes his skin crawl. It feels like he's being punished and he doesn't understand why. He knows he can work, he's been hurt worse and expected to work, but the Mandalorian insists on him 'taking it easy' as if he was actually suffering from a deadly injury.

Getting sent into the cockpit to push a single button, Corin honestly doesn't know whether to laugh or shoot someone. Yet, he does what he's told and slumps into the pilot seat, with a grumpy groan as it causes a jolt of pain from his injury. “Oh, shut up.” He grumbles at his body and reaches forward with his left hand to push the damn button to power up the ship. Bad luck is laughing at him.

The Razor Crest shudders as it comes to life, different lamps lights up and the computer screen flickers. Corin glances around with semi-interest when suddenly a red light starts blinking with a sharp sound. He has absolutely no idea what that means, but red lights and sharp sounds are rarely a sign of anything good. Corin quickly powers down the ship, waits for every light to die out again, waits for something to explode and when it doesn't, he goes and finds the Mandalorian. He does not expect the man to bolt into action, running into the ship and powering it back up again.

“What is it?” Corin asks, hovering behind the pilot-seat and seeing the urgency in the man's every move. “What's wrong?” Definitely bad luck.

The bounty hunter listens to the signal for a moment longer then leans back in the seat. “It's an emergency broadcast. From the Covert.” He struggles to breathe. “They must be under attack.”

Corin shakes his head a little. “So we leave. Now.”

“Leave? For where?” Liita asks, standing in the doorway and awkwardly holding on to the child in a way that spoke of little experience in childminding.

“Nevarro.” The Mandalorian says, already flicking on switches and powering up more of the ship's systems. “We have to leave. We can use the hyperdrive and-”

“Explode.” Liita interrupts him, shoving the child at Corin. “Your engine probably won't handle that kind of pressure. Not with the quick and easy repair we've done. I told you earlier; you need to change a lot of these parts. Stuff I don't have. You're probably going to have to do repairs mid-flight if you try to push the ship at all.”

The Mandalorian turns his seat in an agitated move. “Come with us.”

Liita blinks. “What?” She shakes her head a little. “No-no, that was not our deal.”

“I have to get to Nevarro.” The bounty hunter counters, a touch of desperation in his voicce, hands clenched into fists. “You can get me there.”

The child makes a worried coo so Corin absently rubs its back in a soothing motion.

“This is my home...” Liita mumbles, clearly reluctant.

The Mandalorian jumps up from his seat. “This is my family!”

A brief silence follows, then Liita sighs. “I need to get some stuff. And you're bringing me back after.”

Nodding, the bounty hunter's shoulders eases down a little. He lets Liita exit the cockpit before he glances over at Corin. “You two should stay here.”

Ice cold dread floods Corin. “What?” 

“You're injured. And it's going to get dangerous.” The Mandalorian states quietly.

Shaking his head, Corin shifts the child over on his right arm, ignoring the pain, and reaches out with his left hand to grab a hold of the man's upper arm. “We're not staying. Liita and the child will be staying on the ship, yes, but I'm coming with you.”

“But-”

“You said you wouldn't leave me behind!” Corin snaps, his voice not entirely steady.  
He's out of order, defying rank, but he doesn't care. Let him reprimand Corin all he wants, but he does _not_ get to decide this. Corin will protect him and he won't take no for an answer.

The Mandalorian stares at him for several long seconds, then he nods. “Okay... We need to get our stuff from the lodge and make Liita hurry up. We have to leave as soon as possible.”

Relieved, letting his hand drop, Corin nods as well. “Yeah. Sure. No problem.”

-

It's not long before the Razor Crest once again takes to the sky and leaves the red sand behind. Like Liita predicted, it also doesn't take long before problems emerge when the Mandalorian begins to push the engine, but nothing she can't patch together mid-flight in ways that Corin has no hope of understanding. He just hopes good luck is on their side and they don't die before they find a name for the child.

Said child is restless, clearly picking up on the tension in the cockpit, and at one point it stands on Corin's lap and reaches a small hand up towards his broken collarbone.

“It's okay.” Corin says, taking a hold of his little hand and lowering it. “You don't have to.” Ever since the child had pulled a ship out of the sky, it had been sleeping a lot and only been able to cause chaos in small amounts. It was clearly still recovering and Corin doesn't want it to waste strength on minor issues. “You need to take it easy too, kiddo.” And they travel on.

The Mandalorian mutters about Corin's severely damaged breastplate, too broken to fix on the ship.

Corin hesitates, then asks something he hasn't cared about earlier. “My... old armor. Do you still have it?”

The Mandalorian shakes his head. “I dumped it. If someone found it, they'd know and make trouble. Also, that junk wouldn't have kept a harsh word out, much less a blaster shot.”

Snorting a laugh, Corin shrugs his left shoulder. “Fine. Then I'll just trust good luck and not get shot in the chest.” He means it as a joke, but judging by the way the visor slowly turns his way and the tension in the other man's shoulders he can tell it wasn't perceived as very funny.

Approaching Nevarro, they all feel a moment of horrified dread when they see the Star Destroyer hovering near the planet. For Corin it's like seeing a ghoul from the past, knowing he'd know every corridor as they were all identically designed. He remembers his father, his uncle, in their dark officer uniforms, stalking down the hall and telling him he needs to do better, to remember his family's honor, and it gets a little hard to breathe. They would really hate what he's become...

With a smugglers skill, the Mandalorian slips the ship under the Destroyer's radar and they are soon flying dangerously low over the barren landscape of Nevarro.  
“We have to land a distance away from the city. Make our way over there on foot, unnoticed.” The Mandalorian says.

“Roger that.” Corin replies absently, focused on the final weapons check he's conducting on their blasters and the pulse rifle. He attaches a couple of grenades to his belt too. Can't hurt.

When the ship lands, they all gather in the cargo area.  
“Keep your eyes open.” The Mandalorian instructs Liita. “The first sign of incoming trouble, you take off.”

She nods. “Oh, I will. Trust me.”

Corin is kneeling next to the child, running gentle hands over its head and ears. “And look after this little one.” He hates separating from the child, it is almost physically painful, but he knows it will be much safer here. And weird as Liita may be, the child trusts her. “He needs to eat soon...”

The Mandalorian opens the cargo door. “Let's go.”

Corin nods, running his fingers along the drooping ears a final time. “We'll be back, kiddo. I promise.” He straightens, nods at Liita, then turns and follows the Mandalorian outside.  
He doesn't look back. He can't. He'll change his mind if he does.

They cross what is mostly volcanic rock for at least two hours before they finally arrive where they can spot the city in the distance. The city and the handful of Scout Troopers at its entrance.  
“I was hoping we could sneak in...” The Mandalorian says.

Corin scoffs. “Shouldn't be a problem. Those guys? Scout Troopers are the ones the Empire couldn't find any other use for. Overpaid delivery-boys.”

The Mandalorian slowly glances over at him. “That sounds personal.”

“What?” It had absolutely nothing to do with that fight which had broken out between Corin's squad and some Scout Trooper squad. “No. Just an observation. Inside information.”

Snorting a faint laugh, the Mandalorian turns his attention back to the city. “Well, either way, we're going to have to go around...”

A smug Corin is proved right when it is no hard task to sneak by the bored Scout Troopers and soon they are inside the city, which is flooded with actual Storm Troopers. Now that is bad luck.  
They manage to make their way through alleys towards where the entrance will lead them down into the sewer. Once there, the Mandalorian draws his blaster. “Ready?”

Corin draws his blaster as well. “Ready.”

And that is when they hear the happy chirp behind them.

-

Spinning around, they stare with complete disbelief as the child patters eagerly towards them and grabs a hold of the Mandalorian's leg. “How did you...?” Corin says in dazed amazement.

The Mandalorian instantly activates his communication piece. “Liita, can you hear me? Liita, answer!”

“What?” The woman's voice replies, sounding annoyed.

Colin closes his eyes with relief, at least she's okay, then picks up the child to hold it, preventing it from wandering off to where it could be seen.

“Why is the child here?” The Mandalorian asks through gritted teeth.

There is a brief silence then they hear; “Oh.” Another pause. “I thought it was asleep. I'm working on the engine.”

There is the sound of blaster fire somewhere inside the city and the Mandalorian makes a frustrated sound before turning to Corin. “You keep him safe. Stay behind me. Understood?”

Corin nods.

They step inside, walk down some stairs and soon they are deep into the dark. This is where the Mandalorians live? Corin glances around, curious, but is soon distracted by the bounty hunter stopping and picking up something. It takes several seconds before he realizes what it is; a toy.  
Children? There had been children here? The implications of a child's toy thrown to the ground like that makes Corin uneasy and he walks deeper into the darkness in hopes of being wrong, that good luck has struck and he will find the Mandalorian children hiding just around the corner.

What he finds, as he turns the corner, is a mirror. No. Wait. Not a mirror. Corin suddenly remembers he isn't wearing Storm Trooper armor and helmet anymore. 

For a second he and the Storm Trooper stare at each other, then Corin twists around to make sure the blaster shot will hit him and not the child, feels something under his skin snap and burn where he's already hurt, then flinches violently at the sound of the weapon being fired.

But there is no added pain. And after a couple of seconds, after hearing the Mandalorian come running to halt next to him, Corin slowly peeks back and finds the Storm Trooper lying on the ground with a steaming hole in the back of his backplate and a familiar sight standing a short distance away.

“Still hanging with this troublemaker, Corin?” Paz asks with a hint of humor, lowering his blaster.

Exhaling with relief, Corin straightens back up, but his Mandalorian merely stalks by him and over to Paz.  
“Where are the others? What happened?”

Paz grunts and nods for them to follow him as he leads them further into the sewer. “Some Imp decided to attack us and brought a damn army. We managed to evacuate most of our people, but I'm guessing you saw the Star Destroyer up there? It shot down the three last ships trying to make a break for it. As long as that is up there and the army is occupying the city, we're stuck.”

Corin tries hard not to look too closely at the fallen shapes he can barely make out lying around in the dark, but despite this he catches hints of both Mandalorian and Storm Trooper armor. 

“And tonight,” Paz continues, “the chief Imp is arranging for a public execution of two of our kin.”

“No.” The Mandalorian states. “No. That's not happening. And we're getting you out of here.”

“Big words... For a troublemaker...” Sitting in the doorway to the Inner Sanctum, Raga is leaning against wall and gives a faint cough after speaking. There is an unsettling amount of blood surrounding her where she sits and a soaked bandage is wrapped around her waist.

When the Mandalorian rushes over to her side to talk in quiet Mando'a, Corin glances over at Paz who merely gives a slight shake of his head. Nothing to do. She is already dead, her body just hasn't quite caught up to it yet.

Swallowing hard, Corin looks down at the curious child in the embrace of his left arm. “Please...?” He shouldn't ask, he knows, the child should rest, but...

The child coos and starts squirming so he walks over and sets it down next to Raga. Corin and his Mandalorian exchange looks before they start undoing the bandage and revealing the wound to the child, who reaches out a small hand and closes its eyes.

There is a faint light and the wound starts to close and as soon as the skin is whole, the child stumbles backwards into Corin and his Mandalorian's waiting hands.

Raga coughs once more, then leans forward and looks down at her belly. Finding it whole again, she slowly lifts her head, the t-visor focusing on the three newcomers and the helmet tilts slightly in a thoughtful gesture. “Well... This just got interesting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a HUGE thank you to Lovearoundzero for the awesome Mandorin fanart with the perfect Liita!
> 
> [ ](https://ibb.co/bFFsdJw)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting the Covert and going on a rescue mission.  
> A harsh truth and an even harsher lie.

Cradling the sleeping child in his left arm, Corin sits waiting while the Mandalorians have their gathering in the inner sanctum. Leaning against the cement wall, he looks down at his right hand resting in his lap. He tries to curls his fingers into a fist and frowns.  
His fingers have been numb for a while, but now his hand and his arm are feeling weird too. He can't quite form the fist, doesn't have any real strength in the digits, and there is a fierce burn radiating from his broken collarbone. That's probably not good.

Sighing he relaxes his hand and focuses on the child instead. It shouldn't have been asked to heal Raga after the strain it had been put through earlier, but there really wasn't much choice. They couldn't just let her die. But Corin still worries. The child is so small, so fragile despite its powers.

He uses his numb hand to trail light fingers over the child's fuzzy head, making a silent promise to do better, to not put it in such a situation again. He can do better. He will do better.  
The child makes a drowsy coo, squirming a little before stretching and going straight back to sleep.  
Corin smiles, feeling a tight clench of affection in his chest.

The sound of voices snaps him out of it and he glances up to find a small group of four Mandalorians exiting the inner room, among them his Mandalorian. When they turn to walk towards him, Corin gets up and recognizes Paz and Raga, but the last one is unfamiliar to him.

A spiked, golden helmet, a short fur cloak and an aura that screams authority.  
It makes Corin want to lower his gaze and back away, his every survival instinct is screaming for him to submit, but he remembers what he had been told when first meeting Paz and Raga, so he forces himself to stand his ground.

“This is what they are after?” The one in the golden helmet asks, a woman, as she looks down at the sleeping child. “This is the one who helped you against the Mudhorn?”

“Yes.” The Mandalorian replies, carefully neutral.

“Jetii magic...” Paz mutters. “What is this creature?”

“A foundling.” The woman in the gold helmet states. She then shifts her visor up to Corin's face. “And this is him?”

“Yes.” The Mandalorian repeats, still neutral.

Feeling the sharp attention of the woman from behind the visor, Corin once again battles against the urge to lower his gaze. Suddenly he desperately misses his old Storm Trooper helmet.

After a moment, she lifts a pair of forging tongs and lightly taps Corin's pauldron, the one he'd received from his Mandalorian. “Poor work.”

The Mandalorian shifts his weight and if Corin didn't know better, he'd say the man seemed awkward. “I couldn't wait. It was a matter of emergency.”

Paz leans towards Raga and mumbles loud enough for everyone to hear: “I bet it was...”

Corin sees his Mandalorian turn his t-visor towards Paz and can almost feel the urge he has to punch Paz. He also feels a little offended on his pauldron's behalf. It's perfect in his eyes.

The Mandalorian in the golden helmet makes a non-committing sound then turns and starts walking away. “We shall see. After your mission. This is the way.”

“This is the way.” The three Mandalorian echoes.

They wait in respectful silence until the one in the gold helmet has disappeared into the inner sanctum again, then they all turn towards Corin. “Okay,” his Mandalorian says, “this is the plan.”

The two captured Mandalorians are held in a building to the northwest. It's small, but has three levels, and there are a whole bunch of Storm Troopers guarding it. With a small group, just the four of them, they will infiltrate, then split up where one duo will be the distraction and the other will free the prisoners.

As plans go, Corin has been given worse to follow. But his heart breaks when he has to hand the sleeping child over to the Mandalorian who will bring it to the last group of Mandalorians set to evacuate the planet on a ship via the course they had used coming in with the Razor Crest. The child can't come with them, it wouldn't be safe to leave it here alone, so there is no other real option. Still, he hates it. “I remember my promise. We'll be back together again, kid. The three of us.” He glances over at the Mandalorian. “Right?”

The Mandalorian stares at him for a second, then nods. “Right.”

As he walks away with the child, Corin hears him speaking softly in Mando'a and wishes he could one day understand what he was saying while knowing he never will.

-

In the city, the Storm Troopers are clearly bored and not overly motivated towards their guard duty because Corin is a bit embarrassed on their behalf at how easy it is to sneak into the building containing the Mandalorian prisoners. He overhears a couple of Troopers complaining about being stuck there when there was real action to be had between two other war-lords.  
But despite this, there is no avoiding the fear he feels upon seeing random appearances by both Death Troopers and Flame Troopers. Death Troopers, still the most fanatical of them all, and the Flame Troopers, who were the ones too insane to be placed in any other squad.  
Even if they succeeded, if everything went according to plan, it still meant that his Mandalorian and Paz would draw the attention of every single one of them. And Corin wouldn't be there to watch the Mandalorian's back.

“Okay.” Raga says as they reach the t-section at the end of the hallway, where they will part ways. “Give us five minutes, then light it up.”

“Shouldn't be a problem.” Paz replies, a grin in his voice. “I know how to make noise. It's the sneaking part I'm shit at.”

Corin can easily believe that.

The Mandalorian reaches out and places his hand on the pauldron on Corin's left shoulder. “Be careful.” He nods at his torso. “Remember, no getting shot in the chest.”

Exhaling a faint smile, Corin nods. “You too. Just... don't get shot at all.” He knows the Mandalorian is a skilled warrior, but he can't forget the times he's seen him hurt and bleeding, meaning he knows he isn't immune to pain. 

And that thought drives Corin, as the Mandalorian moves to turn away, to reach out his left hand and take a hold of the man's neck and pull him back so he can lean in, close his eyes and carefully press his forehead to the silver helmet.  
He hears a surprised sound from the Mandalorian's throat. There is a moment when the bounty hunter is completely frozen, but then his hands come up to cup Corin's face and he leans into the gesture, those powerful hands holding him like Corin is something precious.

It was meant as a gesture of concern, to underline his worry for his safety, but the moment lingers and Corin can't seem to get himself to put a stop to it.

“Yes, yes.” Paz' voice rumbles and drags the Mandalorian away with him, down the hallway to the right. “You two can kiss more later. You taught him well. But we have a mission. Focus.”

Flustered at the abrupt ending of the moment, it takes several seconds before Corin registers the words. “What?”

Raga clears her throat, nudges his arm and sounds dangerously amused when she speaks. “This way.” And starts walking down the hallway to the left.

Corin hesitates, casts a final glance at where he can see the Mandalorian and Paz disappear round a corner, then follows her.  
“Hey, Raga, what did he mean by kiss?” The thought is too embarrassing. He didn't just kiss the Mandalorian in front of them, did he? It is just a thing to show compassion and concern, right?

“It's called a kov'nyn. Or, as you outsiders like to say, a Keldabe kiss.” Raga replies, absently scouting around a corner before motioning for him to follow her. “We mostly use it for family, some _friends_ , our spouses and, yeah, enemies.”

“Enemies?” Just when Corin thought he couldn't get any more confused.

Checking and still seeing no one in sight, Raga glances over at him before she gives the wall a violent headbutt that leaves a scary dent in the cement.

“Oh.” Corin figures the lack of having a shattered skull means he's not considered an enemy, so he is amazed at the realization that he's considered a friend by the Mandalorian. He fails to hide a flustered smile.

“Come on, genius.” Raga says with a faint laugh. “Let's go.”

-

Reaching the corner just before the room with the prisoners, Corin and Raga waits. A little while after that, there is a loud explosion that probably sends tremors through most of the planet.  
“Paz...” Raga says and shakes her head a little. She peers around the corner, sees the four Storm Troopers standing guard now talking nervously amongst themselves, while the other Troopers just hanging around there runs off to help with whatever was happening.  
“Ready? Follow me.” Raga asks, drawing her blaster.

“Affirmative.” Corin replies, needing two attempts to draw his blaster as his damn fingers just won't cooperate. He takes a deep breath, waits for Raga to go around the corner and then follows her.

It doesn't feel good firing at the Storm Troopers, but Corin doesn't allow himself to look too closely at the fallen bodies as he walks by them and over to where Raga is kicking in the door. He tells himself it's either soldiers he doesn't know or some of the many jerks he knew and who deserves it. He can't think any other way or it would... be too much. It would be bad luck. He takes up position next to the door and makes sure there will be no nasty surprised for Raga and the others when they emerge.

The two captive Mandalorians, both in blue armor, don't need much persuading once they are free of their bindings to get up and grab weapons from the fallen Storm Troopers. Corin sees them pause a little at the sight of him waiting just outside the room, but once Raga declares he'd on their side, they merely move on towards freedom.  
There is another violent explosion nearby. Clearly Paz is having a good time. Corin just hopes his Mandalorian is doing okay...

Running down the hall, Raga first, Corin last, and the two former prisoners in the middle, they are almost at the t-section where they had split up with the Mandalorian and Paz, where the exit is, when someone calls out behind them.

“Halt!”

Spinning around, Corin fires blindly at the small group of Storm Troopers. He backs up as he does, but he doesn't turn around, keeping his sights on where the Troopers dive into cover.

“Corin!” Raga's voice calls out for him. “Come on!”

“Go!” Corin shouts back and he's relieved to hear them run.

He continues to fire at the Storm Trooper, then flinches when a blaster shot hits the wall next to his head and reveals that there are Storm Troopers behind him as well. They are coming from where his Mandalorian and Paz had gone, forcing him to take cover in a doorway.  
Corin grabs one of the grenades he'd brought from the Razor Crest, pulls the pin and throws it down the hallway to the left, turns and fires his blaster to the right; feeling the air pressure from the explosion lick at the sweat on his neck. He gets to fire a couple of shots before he's forced into cover again. Dammit, shoulder is now aching so much it is getting impossible to ignore it. He won't be able to keep this up much longer. He can barely aim. His fingers just won't grip properly.  
Corin knows he has to make a choice; stay or make a run for it before his grip fails entirely. 

When Corin had been born, his father had been delighted at having a son to carry on the family name and to follow in his footsteps in becoming a loyal soldier for the Empire. Corin never believed in the cause like his father, but he did become a soldier and learned to think like one.  
His initial instinct is to stay. He has a strategic position here, good cover. Out of the building, his arm would merely make him a liability. He can see the mission through by holding back the hostiles, draw their attention and securing the Mandalorians' escape. His Mandalorian had included him, allowed him to help save his family, Corin cannot fail his trust by not doing what he can to ensure the mission is a success.  
But at the same time, he remembers making a promise. He promised the child that they'd be together again, the three of them, and if he stays here, that won't happen. It'll be a death sentence.

Closing his eyes, Corin makes a frustrated sound. It feels like his brain is being squeezed. He's torn between what he should do and what he wants to do. A cog in a machine shouldn't want things...  
He knows he should choose what he was born to do, what he's trained to do, yet, as his eyes open again and his fingers curl around the final grenade; Corin makes a different choice.

He's getting out of there. 

-

Throwing the grenade, firing his blaster more for the sound than having any hope of actually hitting something, Corin makes a run for the exit. He stays low, keeps firing, and it a moment of incredible luck; the blaster shot that actually hits him manages to hit the Beskar pauldron and bounces off to burn into the wall instead.  
Corin turns around the corner, blaster lowered and is about to run after where Raga and the others had gone before him, and that is when he finds himself face to helmet with a lone Storm Trooper blocking his way.

Startled, Corin lifts his blaster, but his grip fails due to his numb hand and the weapon just slips out of his grip and clatters to the floor.  
Yeah, there was that bad luck that always followed him.

Breathing hard, Corin stares at the Storm Trooper, who has their E-11 raised and aiming at him. He's suddenly so very aware of his vulnerable torso and he still very much do not want to die

That's when the Storm Trooper's weapon wavers a little. “You told me not to hesitate.” 

Corin blinks. What? Then he remembers. The Storm Trooper on the mud planet. The one he'd shot in the leg and told not to hesitate next time. “Why would you listen to the enemy? What do I know?” He swallows hard. “Please. Do hesitate. Hesitate all you want, kid.” Corin dares a quick glance behind him, worried the other Storm Troopers will appear as well. “Actually, I'd really appreciate it if you hesitated just long enough for me to be on my way?”

“They say CT-113 is a traitor.” The Storm Trooper says, Corin can't really counter that as it is technically true, but then the blaster rifle is lowered and the Trooper takes his helmet off to reveal a young man. “But there are some of us who are starting to wonder if you're right.”

Corin opens and closes his mouth a couple of times. He has no idea what to say to that.

The Trooper gestures for him to follow. “This way.” He starts walking. “I'll take you to your friends.” Is it possible to have this kind of good luck? Really?  
Sending a final glance back at the hallway that is still vomiting smoke after his last grenade, Corin quickly picks up his blaster with his left hand and stalks after him. 

“There are things happening. Things we didn't sign up to do.” The young Storm Trooper says as they walk. “They say it is necessary in order to rebuild the Empire, but...”

“War is never as glorious as the recruiters and the teachers at the Academy paints it out to be.” Corin says, remembering too well the horror of his first battles before he learned to not feel.

When they exit the building and trot across a small square separating them from the alleyway that will lead to safety, Corin glances over at him. “Come with us.”

There is a flicker of surprise on the young face and he actually lights up. “I can?”

“You can't stay here.” Corin knows eyes must have spotted them together by now. Punishment of the cruelest kind is inevitable for this one for helping him. 

“I...” The Trooper begins but never finishes, as there is the sound of a blaster and a spray of blood hits Corin. 

Stumbling to a halt, automatically wiping at his face where the blood is sticky and warm, Corin hears the young Storm Trooper fall and he spins around to see Moff Gideon and a small group of Death Troopers standing in the very doorway he and the Trooper had just come through.

“I don't think Storm Troopers should take their helmets off.” Gideon says, lowering his blaster. “It's dangerous, considering all of these blaster shots flying around here.” He gives Corin a tight smile, just as terrifying as the stories made him out to be. “And it shows disloyalty to the uniform.”

Shock and fear has Corin frozen, standing there like a target on a shooting range. He barely notices that his Mandalorian and Paz emerge from the shadows behind the Moff and the Death Troopers.

“Then again, you know all about betrayal of this uniform, don't you? Corin Valentis, Storm Trooper CT-113.” Gideon drawls. “I am glad your father is dead so he didn't have to see you become... this. He and Vecon would have shot you themselves.”  
The words feels like a knife to the gut because Corin knows it is true.

In the background, Paz' armor twitches at the revelation of Corin's true identity as a Storm Trooper. He turns his visor to face his battle-brother and Corin doesn't need to see his face to know there is betrayed anger there.

“Now, tell me, where is my property?” Gideon demands as he lifts his blaster again.

And that is when his Mandalorian starts firing at the Death Troopers, who automatically flock together to protect Gideon, and he shouts; “Corin! Alley. Now!”

Corin obeys.

-

Their exit from the city is neither elegant or quiet, but they make it. The Mandalorian and Raga take up the front, leading them in a sprint to the Razor Crest, with Corin and the two former prisoners in the middle and Paz at the back, covering their escape by picking off Scout Troopers like flies with his heavy gun and catching up with his jetpack.

The Mandalorian calls out over the communication system for Liita to have the ship ready and once they are close enough, Corin can see the ship is already powered up and waiting for them. Paz has barely stepped inside and joined them in the cargo hold before the ship takes off and the door starts closing.

Several shudders and jolts reveal that the Razor Crest suffers some hits, but the engine keeps going and while they are in the cargo area and can't see anything; Corin feels the speed increase and knows they are heading up for space.  
More abrupt movements follow, either because of smaller ships or the Star Destroyer, but following that there is the humming sound of the hyperdrive spinning up and then there is just smooth sailing.

Exhaling relieved, the Mandalorians start talking amongst themselves in Mando'a. Raga even drags one of the former prisoners close and slaps their helmet in a harsh but affectionate way.

Corin quietly retreats into the corner next to the door and sinks down to sit there. He wipes the remaining blood off his skin, sees it stain his fingers and tries to forget the Trooper's face.  
There is one more soul who is quiet, dangerously quiet, and that is Paz. He's hovering behind the other Mandalorians and Corin can feel the weight of his glare.

“Hey.” A voice says. A familiar and very welcome voice. His Mandalorian. “Are you okay?” He sits down next to Corin.

Corin nods, keeping his eyes on the blood on his hand, gently smearing it between his fingers.

Friends, enemies, good people and bad people, they all bled and died the same. Luck didn't care.  
Corin had been lucky when the kid had appeared, the kid had been unlucky to meet Corin. A flip of luck, whimsical and random, and Corin was alive while the young Trooper was dead. 

“Did you know him?” The Mandalorian asks, taking his hand and in a surprisingly tender way, he begins wiping the blood away with his cloak.

Corin shakes his head. A thousand thoughts are churning inside his mind and none of them good.

He suddenly finds that he misses the little child so much he can't even put it into words. After the blood is gone, the Mandalorian drops the cloak but not his hand. Corin is half-tempted to curl up against the Mandalorian, seek comfort in his quiet strength, but now that Corin's secret is out; he doesn't want to make things even worse for him. The others are watching.  
The only good thing is the throbbing ache radiating from his broken collarbone, down his arm to his fingertips. It feels right to be in this much pain. It feels like just punishment. He should hurt.

When the other Mandalorians call out for his Mandalorian, Corin nods towards them for him to go, knowing his kindness makes him want to stay by Corin's side instead and that won't do. Not at all.  
The bounty hunter reluctantly goes and there is talk about the new Covert site and when they will be landing to rejoin the rest of their tribe.

It turns out to be less than half a day with the engines at full capacity, forcing his Mandalorian to take over the controls while Liita prevents them from blowing up with her repairs.  
Corin merely keeps to his corner, all too aware of Paz' still lingering glare and the other Mandalorians keeping an awkward distance in the small area. There is a confrontation brewing and he is not looking forward to it. He hadn't meant to trick them, it just... happened. If they had known, he'd be dead already. Corin just wanted to live. And now it has cost him their friendship, even if it was based on a lie, and they will never forgive him.

The confrontation finally takes place when they land and they walk out of the ship to head for where the temporary new Covert is set-up. Corin is the last to leave the ship, except for Liita who declares she's staying to fix the damage done yet again to the engine, and when he sets his foot on solid ground, two things happen.

First is that he wryly notes that it is yet another desert planet, but he can't even muster up enough energy to be annoyed. They have landed in a small docking space next to a town with many dome shaped buildings and a lively trade center.

And after that observation, Paz' voice boom through the chatter; “Not him.”

The Mandalorians and Corin all freeze up.

“He's a damn Storm Trooper.” Paz continues, every word loaded with contempt. “We do not bring the enemy to our secret Covert.”

Corin hears his Mandalorian make an angry sound, about to retaliate, so Corin reaches out and takes a gentle hold of his arm to stop him. “It's okay.” After that, Corin moves forward to face Paz.  
“I'm sorry,” Corin says, reaching up and unfastening the pauldron Raga had given him. “I really am.” It's difficult to loosen the piece, but he suspects it is not because of his numb fingers. Still, he'd been given this gift without them knowing the truth and Corin is starting to realize he can never really outrun CT-113 no matter how hard he tries. It was stupid to think he'd ever be anything else. He holds the beautiful Beskar out towards the towering man.

Paz hesitates then yanks the pauldron out of his hands and stalks away with it. Raga watches Corin for a few seconds, then follows along with the other two Mandalorians.

His Mandalorian looks from him to the others and then back again. “I'll talk to them. Paz is just hot tempered. Give me some time?”

Corin nods. “I'll head into town. Get some supplies.” He forces himself to put on a smile. “And don't worry about it. At least he didn't shoot me on the spot. I half-expected that.”

Leaning in close, the Mandalorian lowers his voice. “Nobody is going to hurt you. I won't allow it. And they'll understand. I just need to talk to them.”

He doubts they will ever forgive him for his past, they probably shouldn't, but Corin holds on to his smile by pure will in gratitude for his kind words and nods. “Then, go.”

-

The trading area is lively, but it is not overly crowded, which suits Corin fine. The constant pain is impossible to ignore now, stupid collarbone, stupid arm, and it makes him slightly nauseous, so a little breathing room is appreciated.

Losing Paz and Raga's friendship hurts. A lot. But a part of his mind is whispering that maybe they won't let him see the child again either, and _that_ he won't be able to live with. Surely his Mandalorian won't let that happen? Corin can't be that cursed by bad luck?

Corin is so lost in his gloomy thoughts that he turns a corner and doesn't really pay attention to his surroundings, he's forgetting his training, so he never sees the punch before it hits. One moment he's walking, the next everything goes black.

It's pain that brings him back. So much and unbearable pain. His entire body is screaming at the pain.  
Corin groans at the agony of lying on his right side so he carefully rolls over on his back and takes the pressure off his broken collarbone. While his mind is flailing between the pain and trying to remember what had just happened, he realizes that his wrists and ankles are tied up and there is the hum of a ship's engine.

Opening his eyes, blinking to clear his blurred vision, Corin finds himself staring up an unfamiliar ceiling. He turns his head a little, sees that he is on the floor of some small transport skiff and there is some stranger sitting in the pilot-seat a small distance from where he is.  
Corin swallows down the nausea, tests his restraints and finds them to be more than solid. Whoever had done this, they knew what they were doing. A second and harder tug at the restraints around his wrists tugs at his aching shoulder and he lets out a faint hiss of pain.

The pilot registers the sound and turns the seat to check on him. “Oh. You're awake. Good.”  
It's a woman. Dark hair, a brilliant smile and a Rebel alliance tattoo under her eye. Everything about her screams ex-military.

Corin realizes he is in deep trouble. “Do I know you?”

The woman smiles with sharp amusement. “No.” She places a puck on the floor and activates it. A hologram of Corin's face, name and rank comes up. “But I know you.”

Oh no. Corin struggles to push the pain away so he can _think_ and get out of this mess. “I... That...” And that is when he sees the list of his crimes on the hologram and shock overtakes the discomfort. “No, no, wait a minute. That's not right. I mean, yeah, that's my face, but I never did any of that!” 

“Uh huh.” The woman says, snatching the puck back up and deactivating it. She's clearly heard that excuse before.

Corin struggles to sit up. “No, really, I swear!” He has a lot on his conscience, but nowhere near anything as horrible as some of those things. Clearly someone was setting him up. “I never...” A sudden idea strikes him. “That last one! The one about that family. I can't have done that. I was on a different planet with a Mandalorian.”

Leaning forward, placing her elbows on her knees, a clear expression of a challenge on her face, the woman raises a dark eyebrow. “Really? Then you don't mind me talking to this Mandalorian?”

Corin shakes his head. “No problem. He'll tell you. We just have to go back and-”

“What's his name?” The woman asks.

Corin stalls, has a sinking feeling in his gut, then recovers. “Why do you need to know that...?”

“There were at least five Mandalorians in that town. I'd rather not face them all.” She tilts her head. “So. Which one? What's his name? Answer me right now. Don't think, just answer.”

Frustrated and humiliated, Corin sags back a little. “I... don't know.”

The woman makes a smug hum. “Thought as much.” She leans back in the seat and turns back to the controls. “Nice try, though, CT-113. You're not the first to try to worm your way out what's finally coming to you.” She increases the speed on the ship. “I'd shoot you myself, but I'm kind of broke and a former army colleague of mine is willing to pay a lot of credits for you. He really doesn't like Storm Troopers, just so you know.”

Tugging at his restraints again, this time ignoring the raw stabs of pain from his injury, Corin feels panic licking at the edge of his mind as he remembers the sight of bloodied Storm Trooper helmets on pikes and knows they were the lucky ones. There were whispers of far worse fates at the hands of former Rebel soldiers.

And as the ship races towards their destination, there is no way for the Mandalorian to save Corin's useless hide this time.

Corin realizes he's not going to be able to hold his promise to the child, after all. Bad luck is going to make sure the three of them will never be together again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit; Because I'm a ditzy mess, I kind of forgot to point out the timeline. Blood and Sand starts after episode 3 of the show, so Cara and Dyn/Din/Mando has never met before in this fic...


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corin hurts.  
> The Mandalorian searches.  
> And soon everybody hurts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The deity that is cac0daemonia has graced us with this GORGEOUS piece with traumatized Corin being comforted by our dear Mandalorian, from chapter 8.
> 
> [](https://imgbb.com/)  
>   
> 

Corin can feel how tight and efficient the restraints are, but he still spends a long time trying to free himself, driven by desperation and his fierce survival instinct. If he doesn't get free, he will die. And he really doesn't want to die. He wants to go back to his Mandalorian and the child. That's all he want. Is that too greedy? Does he deserve to be punished by bad luck for wanting that?

Eventually he's too tired and in too much pain to continue and he decides to change tactic. Sitting on the floor, legs stretched out in front of him and hands resting in his lap, he turns his attention to the woman in the pilot seat.  
“Listen,” Corin begins, “I know that you're thinking I'm lying, but I'm not. I really didn't do those things. I don't know why someone claims I have, but I didn't.”

“You're not a Storm Trooper?” She doesn't even bother to look back at him.

“I...” Corin struggles to find the right words, sighs, then admits the truth. “I was. Okay. I was. But, nothing like that. And I've been out for a while. I've been traveling with this Mandalorian and...“ No, he can't mention the child. If she's willing to sell Corin to a horrible death for credits, she might go after the child's bounty as well. “And the occasional guest. I swear, there is some mistake!”

“Mistake?” Her voice is dripping with sarcasm. She talks like someone who is used to rookies trying to fool her and who corrects their mistakes with harsh delight.

“Yes, sir.” Corin replies, automatically responding to her authority.

That finally makes her look back at him, but her glance over her shoulder is of dry amusement. “Sir?”

Corin swallows nervously. Among the Storm Troopers, authority was always 'sir', regardless of gender. Maybe the rebels didn't have the same system? “Ma'am...?”

That makes her snort a laugh before she turns away again. “Save your breath and my ears, Valentis. I'm bringing you in. And don't worry, we're almost there.”

“But this is all some mistake!” Corin insists. “If you hand me over to some former Rebel, they're just gonna kill me, even though I didn't do what that puck says. I swear, I didn't do it! Please!” He's not proud of it, but he's not above begging. He doesn't want to die, dammit!  
And to his surprise, the woman gets up from the pilot seat and turns to walk over to him. For a moment he has hope.

Fifteen seconds later she's back in her seat and Corin is gagged. This is beyond bad luck.

He starts trying to free himself from the bindings again.

It's when the ship lands that he really starts to panic. No, no, no. Corin tugs and squirms in vain as the woman powers down the skiff and then she turns to walk over to him.  
“Okay, Valentis. Time to go.” She crouches down and flicks out a knife, cuts the bindings around his ankles.

Corin flips over on his left side, throws a hard kick at the side of her knee and is scrambling up on his feet as he hears her falling with a loud curse. He runs towards the cargo door, eyes on the button to open it, and he gets in four steps before her hand catches up with him.

She grabs his right shoulder, spins him around and while her other fist is already pulled back to deliver what is probably a powerful punch, his agonized scream makes her release her grip on him all together and blink wide-eyed. “Really? I barely touched you!”

Corin, swaying on his feet, dizzy at the insane pain from his broken collarbone, nods towards his injury as he's unable to explain due to the still present gag.

The woman hesitates, then reaches out and pulls at the neck of his shirt to reveal what is underneath. The angle makes it so Corin can't see the injury himself, but he sees her make a face of unease.  
“Judging by that, I'm actually doing you a favor, Valentis. At least here you'll get a quick death.”

Sedated by the pain, he allows her to grab his left arm and guide him off the ship.

-

Outside, a small group of what looks like mercenaries are waiting for them next to some barely standing building in some desolate place that looks more gray than anything Corin has ever seen before. At the front of the group is a burly man with black hair on his head and his knuckles. He has the same tattoo on his upper arm as she does. “Cara!” He exclaims, friendly and familiar. Stepping forward, he reaches out and clasps her forearm, like she does his. “I knew I could count on you.”

Cara grins. “As long as you got my credits, Nedar.”

“Of course!” The man gestures to one of his goons who pulls out a small black bag from his pocket and throws it to him, who then hands it over to Cara. “As promised.”

One of the men walks over and takes a hold of Corin's arm, tugging him a couple of steps away, something Corin very reluctantly agrees to. He can't fight them all. He has to find some other way.

Cara takes a quick look into the bag, absently testing the weight of it in her hand, before she glances over at Corin. “Why so much for this one? I've brought you much higher ranking officials for a lot less, Nedar. Some of them with a track record similar to his. What's so special about this one?”

“He's a Valentis.” The man, obviously called Nedar, grins at Corin and for some reason; he reminds Corin of the man who had mounted the Mandalorian head on his wall as a trophy. “His mother was the cousin to Admiral Motti himself.”

-This is crazy, Corin wants to shout, hindered by the gag. He only met Admiral Motti once, at a family gathering when Corin was about sixteen, and he barely spoke to the man. Everyone knew the Motti family felt that Corin's mother had married way below her rank when she chose an ambitious Valentis as her husband.

Cara shoves the money into her pocket. “Still, I didn't even know you had this kind of cash. Seems like you have a particular grudge, Nedar. You wouldn't hold back on me, would you?”

Nedar laughs, a real belly-laugh, and he slaps her shoulder. “I wouldn't dare, Cara.” He gestures for his goons that they are wrapping things up. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I got an execution to plan. Lovely to do business with you, buddy. Let's do it again some time.”

Cara nods, thoughtfully, then glances over at Corin again, and once more Corin has a moment of hope before she shatters it by turning around and walking back to her ship.

“Get him inside.” Nedar orders.

They lead a struggling Corin into the building, a decrepit thing with parts of the walls and ceiling missing, filled with an odd mix of what appears to be former Rebel fighters and scruffy mercenaries. A massive double-door made out of some kind of metal leads underground and they bring Corin two levels down before he's marched into a room with a single chair placed in the middle of it.  
Corin is too exhausted to fight them when they place him on it. They cut off the restraints around his wrists and chain both of his hands to the chair and he merely hisses softly at the pain in his shoulder.  
It's dark in the room and it smells like old dust.

The second that gag comes off, Corin wastes no time. “Listen, those things on that puck? I didn't do them. I swear. I can prove it. You got to listen to me!”

Nedar smiles down at him. “Oh, I know.” He tilts his head with a calculating move. “Thilleon thought it would inspire the righteous idiots to hunt you down as well as the greedy ones. I guess he was right.”

Shock leaves Corin mute and there the fear turns into dread. This wasn't about any war crimes or personal grudges against the Empire. This was about the child.

“See,” Nedar sighs, “times are hard. The war was good for people like me and these guys here. A steady job and income. Now? It's a mess out there. No one can really afford to be picky about who they work with these days.” He leans down, gets into Corin's face. “So, I'm going to need you to tell me where Moff Gideon's asset is.”

Corin meets his gaze. “No.” He doesn't want to die and while something tells him that this guys is most capable and willing of killing him, Corin will rather die than give up the child.

Nedar smiles. “Well then, we're just going to have to try to change your mind, won't we?”

-

- _Pain lets you know when something is wrong, but it can also be a distraction. You have to learn how to control the pain, don't let it control you._  
The voice of Corin's father flutters through his mind as his body tries to arch off the chair while agony rushes through him. He remember when those words had been spoken to him, he was about seven years old then, crying and shivering, and absently wonders if that was the last time he cried? Neither his father or Uncle Vecon liked it when he cried. Corin can't remember crying after that day.

Nedar and his goons takes turn, makes sure to keep the pain more or less consistent, peppering him with the same question; “Where is the asset?”

Corin refuses to answer.  
How long does it last? Hours? Days? Years? He has no idea. 

At one point, during one of the rare pauses between the hurting, Nedar sits cross-legged on the floor in front of him and looks up at Corin with gentle curiosity. “Why are you holding back? Gideon will fetch you himself if you don't cough up the information, buddy, and he's got drugs and droids to make you talk. It's pointless.”

Corin doesn't answer, merely hangs his head low and focuses on the taste of blood in his mouth.

“Fine. I'll make you a deal; tell me where the Mandalorian is and I will ask him instead. I'll even let you keep your beskar.” Nedar offers.

That actually makes Corin smile for a moment. The man has clearly no idea who he would be challenging. But, as much as he would have loved to see this idiot challenge his Mandalorian and lose, he doesn't want to risk him bringing his rag-tag crew and injuring someone in the Covert. “No.”

Exhaling, revealing his frustration, Nedar shakes his head. “But there is no point in you holding back on me. They will get the information out of you and then they will get their hands on the asset. Might as well save yourself some pain, buddy. If you're trying to hang in there hoping for some big rescue? Not gonna happen. There's a whole bunch of us and we're dug in deep here like a Sarlacc.”

Corin knows no one is coming. Even if his Mandalorian wanted to, which Corin likes to believe he would, they are friends after all, the bounty hunter wouldn't even know where to begin looking. But that's okay, maybe it's better like this. Like this, he won't challenge the Covert's decision to exclude Corin for his past, which is their right, and he can focus solely on keeping the child safe. He will never have to tell Corin his name. So maybe this is good luck in disguise?  
Yeah. It is better this way. For the Mandalorian. For the child.  
And strangely enough that hurts more than what Nedar has done to him.

Lifting his head, Corin sends him a stubborn glare. “I'm not telling you anything.”

Sighing, Nedar gets up and brushes off his pants. “We'll see.”

When the pain begins again, Corin knows a real hero would suffer it in silence for the love of his family.  
He's no hero.  
Corin screams.  
But he doesn't tell them anything.

Eventually there are blissful moments when he passes out and he gets to drift in the darkness of nothing while Nedar and the others argue about what to try next.

There are also moments when Corin's mind decides that it has had enough of this and he flutters between old memories instead of the present.  
Good memories. Watching the military parades next to his father. Weapons training with Uncle Vecon. Surviving his first battle and discovering so had Dee, Pat and Drop. Qualifying as a Snow Trooper. Walking for miles in the cold with nothing but sweet silence for company.  
Hearing the Mandalorian say Corin belonged with him and the child...

A distant but thundering explosion brings Corin back to reality. It is so powerful that the entire building shakes and dust drizzles from the ceiling, causing Nedar and the other mercenary there to glance around with confusion.

“What's going on?” Nedar asks.

-

Another distant explosion follows, but this one sounds closer. Soon there are also the sounds of blasters being fired. Grenades. And it keeps getting closer. 

“Go find out what is happening!” Nedar orders and his goon disappears out the door to do exactly that. He then turns to Corin and pulls his blaster. “Do you know anything about this?”

Corin forces himself to lift his head and look at him, gently shaking his head. He wouldn't be surprised if Gideon has arrived early and decided to kill them all instead of paying Nedar his money. It was never wise to do business with someone like Gideon.

The sounds keep getting closer, it sounds like a war up there, making Nedar increasingly nervous, and then they can hear them just out in the hallway. Nedar takes up a defensive stance next to Corin, aiming with a firm double-grip at the door.

Seconds later, an explosion sends the doors flying off the hinges and through the smoke they can see a shining Beskar armor. The Mandalorian fires his blaster before Nedar has the time to stop gawping and it sends him flying backwards.

Certain he's dreaming, Corin merely blinks drowsily at the sight. Good luck is never this kind.

“Corin?” The Mandalorian, his Mandalorian, quickly holsters his blaster and moves towards him. “Corin, answer me. Are you okay?” He gently cups Corin's face, his breathing sounds distressed from behind the helmet and his touch feels real, but it can't be. It can't. It's just a dream.  
When there is no reply the Mandalorian merely starts freeing Corin from the restraints. “Let's just get you out of here. Come on. It's okay. I'm here. I'm here now.”

Still convinced he's dreaming, deciding it is a nice dream, Corin has to be dragged to his feet and the Mandalorian has to help him walk. Everything feels numb. Weird. His vision is blurred, his hearing is muffled and it is difficult to breathe. He barely notes the fallen bodies they walk by, the sound of fighting going on outside and around him. He's strangely detached from it all.  
The Mandalorian is speaking softly in Mando'a as they walk and it feels soothing, even though Corin can't understand a word of what he's saying.

Once they are outside the building, where several Mandalorians are flying around and firing their blasters, Corin doesn't even notice the Razor Crest parked a small distance away before he is carefully nudged in its direction.

There are barely any mercenaries left and the fighting is soon dying down except from a few enthusiastic fire fights inside the building. It's when when they are walking by some Mandalorians, their armor revealing them as the ones who had been saved in Nevarro, when Corin sees her.  
Standing among the Mandalorians; Cara.

In an instant, red rage flares up inside Corin and something snaps. He moves fast, shoves at the Mandalorian to send him stumbling away, then Corin charges at Cara like a missile. 

His right arm is more or less useless, but he doesn't care. Corin manages to land a hard punch with his left hand as she doesn't see him coming until it is too late, then she blocks the next punch and snarls angrily. Corin feints that he's going to use his barely responding right arm so that when she moves to block the move, he turns, lifts his leg and slams his boot into her stomach with a kick that would have impressed his old teachers.  
It knocks the air out of her for a second, makes her fold over and stumble backwards, but when Corin moves to follow and continue his blind attack; a massive arm comes around his waist and he's pulled back and up, squeezed against a tall form.

“Calm down.” A voice orders. A familiar voice. Paz.

“Let me go!” Corin shouts, squirming and kicking his legs. He sees Cara straightening back up and wiping her bloody nose, but she merely glares at him instead of countering.“Let. Me. GO!” Corin repeats furiously.

And when Paz doesn't obey, Corin sneers, twists his torso and rams his elbow in under the edge of Paz' helmet, hitting his throat and forcing him to let go as he chokes.

-

Landing on his feet, Corin gets to take one step forward before a hand locks around his left wrist and Raga's voice comes from behind him. “Corin, calm down!”

“I said; LET ME GO! Don't touch me!” Amazing reflexes makes it so that Raga releases him and avoids Corin's elbow.

A jolt of pain is followed by Corin's right arm going completely dead. No. Oh, no...

And then the Mandalorian, his Mandalorian, is standing there as well, but his voice is gentle and he doesn't try to grab him. “Corin...” He sounds like he's in pain too.

Gulping for air, Corin backs away on unstable legs and he's trying to think. He's trying, but he can't. His head is just a spinning mess of howls and fear and fury. Everything he has been trying to push down inside his mind is breaking free. He wants to scream, but can't. He...

A faint coo is heard behind him.

Spinning around, Corin finds the child standing there and looking up at him with complete trust.  
Corin's rage vanishes like snow in the sun. For a moment, he just stares, then he just drops to his knees, a broken sound emerging from deep in his throat and he miserably reaches out his left arm in a silent plea.

The child chirps and doesn't hesitate to move towards him and climbs into the embrace as he folds his left arm around it and pulls it close. Closing his eyes tight, hunching over, Corin presses his lips to the child's head, feels the familiar texture of its hair and smells its scent. 

Corin eventually feels the child squirm slightly, so thinking he is holding it too hard he loosens his grip a little, but instead he realizes it is reaching up to his collarbone.  
Closing his eyes, Corin braces himself and yet still starts at the pain when the bones snap back into place and fuse together, making his collarbone whole again. Feeling the tingles and a burn run down his arm as the nerves reach out and reconnect is just plain weird. And the second he has regained feeling, his hand flies up and he feels himself grabbing a hold of something. A hand. Corin doesn't need to look as he recognizes that hand by touch alone.

His Mandalorian is standing next to him, hesitant, even as Corin has a firm grip on his hand thanks to the child's will, but a gentle pull on said hand, by Corin's own will, has the man sinking down next to him and wrapping his free arm protectively around Corin and the child both.

The three of them together like this, fitting together like pieces in a puzzle, like they were always meant for each other, Corin remembers what the Mandalorian had told him.  
_You belong with us._  
And, yeah.  
Yeah, he does.

Holding the child close, turning his face a little to burrow closer to the Mandalorian's chest, their still clutching hands caught between them, Corin feels the bounty hunter's arm tightening its grip a fraction in a similar need to have him closer.  
This had nothing to do with luck. This was fate. They belonged together. Family.

“There are reports on multiple ships approaching. Including a Star Destroyer.” Raga's voice brings Corin back to reality. “We have to get out of here.”

Corin feels his Mandalorian sigh before replying. “Okay. Spread the word. We're leaving.”

Feeling a lot more like himself, Corin sits up and tries to ignore the sting of sadness when the Mandalorian's arm releases him. 

“Can you walk?” The Mandalorian asks him, his voice still so soft.

Corin nods, tries to smile. “I'm fine.”

For some reason, that makes the Mandalorian sigh again and he merely gets up and pulls Corin up as well, keeping his arm around his waist to make sure he remains standing. “Come on.”

They make it back to the Razor Crest, where Corin is frankly quite surprised to find that Liita is waiting and even more so at the slight nod she sends his way.  
What he doesn't like is seeing Cara already inside with the two blue armored Mandalorians and three others. Corin glances over at her as they pass by and frowns. “What is she doing here?” 

“She's the one who brought us here.” The Mandalorian replies in a carefully neutral voice. “After she handed you over, she felt something was wrong and eventually decided to check out your story. She showed up at the Covert. I, uhm, convinced her that you hadn't done any of those things and that her friend had lied to her to get to you. It wasn't difficult to dig out the truth from the puck as it could be traced back to Imperial codes, not the New Republic.”

So the same woman who had handed over him to certain death had been the one who saved him?  
Corin has absolutely no idea what kind of luck that is. Maybe irony has decided to move in as well?

-

They travel in mostly silence, in the cockpit at least. The Mandalorian steering the ship, Corin trying to catch up on all the cuddles he's missed out on from the child instead of thinking and Liita half-way underneath the control-panel and adjusting who knew what. Neither of them comment or react to the loud and raunchy songs coming from the cargo hold.

When they land, Corin is for the first time glad to see a desert planet and steps out into the heat with not too many thoughts of hatred for the sun. He's just glad to be back.  
Most of the Mandalorians are all heading towards the building where their temporary Covert is located and Corin sends them a final and longing glance before he turns to head for the town. He doesn't get far before his Mandalorian calls out for him.

“Corin. Hey, where are you going?”

Corin looks back at him and gestures towards the town.

Balancing the restless child in his left arm, his Mandalorian shakes his head and reaches out a hand to gently grasp Corin's shoulder. “No. This way.” He guides him towards the Covert.

Corin takes one step, then digs his heels in and shakes his head. “Wait, that's... I'm not...”

The Mandalorian squeezes his shoulder lightly, leans in closer. “Trust me.”

He does. Corin really does. So he walks with him. 

When they step inside, Corin quickly realizes what looks like a small but wide building actually has several levels underground and there are Mandalorians milling around everywhere. He's even more surprised to see a small group of teenagers play-fighting with helmets on.

“This way.” The Mandalorian says, guiding him over to a door and leads him into a small room. It has sand-colored walls, a bunk on either side of the room, a small crib and a door on their right that stands ajar and reveals a shower room.

Corin steps inside and looks around with surprise and confusion. “We can stay here?”

“For a little bit.” The Mandalorian places the child in the crib. “This entire location is just temporary. They are working on setting up a permanent one at a different planet.” He glances over at Corin, who is still checking out the room. “You should get cleaned up.”

Not minding that idea one bit, he's covered in dust and remnants of his own blood, Corin is about to ask if he can go back to the ship to get his spare clothing only to discover his bag is already in the room. Grabbing it, he heads into the connecting room and doesn't waste any time.

The shower's hot water feels amazing. So amazing that after he's washed, Corin allows himself a few extra seconds of just closing his eyes and holding his face up towards the spray before he orders himself out. There is an old and semi-broken mirror on the wall and when he dries himself, Corin sees the bruises on his torso that marks every spot he's hurting after his stay with Nedar. Yet, his shoulder and collarbone looks and feels unharmed, and that is the important thing.

Corin has just pulled on his spare pants when he's struck by an irrational fear. What if the Mandalorian is gone? What if he left while he was showering? Corin picks up the sleeveless shirt and hurries back into the sleeping quarters, only to find the Mandalorian sitting on the floor and playing with the child.  
Relief hits Corin like a bantha and he has to lean against the door frame to recover.

The Mandalorian glances up and watches him for a few seconds, then he sighs. “I'm sorry.”

Reassured of their presence, Corin straightens and pulls on the sleeveless shirt. “For what?”

“You got hurt because of me.”

Blinking surprised, Corin almost exhales a disbelieving laugh. “This wasn't your fault. This happened because I didn't pay attention to my surroundings.” He shrugs. “Besides, I'm fine.”

Leaning back against the bunk, the Mandalorian manages that trick of his where he frowns through his helmet. “How old were you when they started training you?”

Corin thinks back, tries to remember, but can't really think of a time when he wasn't learning something related to his future career. “Six, maybe?” He shrugs. “I had to start early. My father had big plans for me. And Uncle Vecon helped. They taught me everything I needed to know to get into the Academy. I couldn't have done it without them.”

The Mandalorian is quiet for a little while, then he glances down at the child trying to bite the head off some puppet. “We're going to have to train this little one. Should we use their technique?”

Corin can feel himself go pale at the thought. “You can't. He's just a child. Please.”

The Mandalorian nods thoughtfully, then looks back up at him. “So were you, Corin.” He says quietly. “They should never have done that to you.”

Stunned, Corin can't speak. His mind is spinning. He wants to deny it, knows his father and Uncle Vecon only meant well, they only did it to help him, but at the same time; he can't deny that he would never have done what they did to him to the child in his care. Never.  
Turning his face away, Corin flails in his efforts to find some way to reconcile his loyalty towards his father with the fact that he'd kill anyone who treated this little child the same way Corin's father had treated him. Him and Uncle Vecon both. 

Sighing yet again, the Mandalorian tugs lightly at the child's ear. “Listen. Corin. You should get some rest. I'll take him with me and you can have some peace and quiet.”

Corin feels an instant jab of fear and takes a step towards him. “Wait, c-can't I come with you?” He doesn't want to be separated from them again. “I just... Please?”

The Mandalorian doesn't answer at first, then clears his throat and shrugs a little. “I tell you what... How about you get on the bunk, get some sleep, and we'll just stay right here.”

Pathetically grateful, Corin quickly climbs into the bunk behind him before he can change his mind. Curling up on his side, watching the back of the silver helmet, Corin listens as the man soon hums that gentle lullaby in Mando'a he sometimes uses to settle the child. Corin is almost asleep when the singing stops.  
“What's wrong?” Corin asks.

“Din.”

Okay, Corin is officially confused, yet again. “What?”

“My name is Din. Din Djarin.”

This time Corin is stunned with surprised happiness, but it doesn't take too long before he recovers the ability to speak. “Pleased to meet you, Din Djarin.”

“You too, Corin Valentis.” The Mandalorian, no, Din says. Then he starts humming the song again and even laughs a little when the child tries to join in.

Corin smiles and aches with the urge to reach out and touch Din's shoulder, but he tells himself not to be greedy. This was more than he'd dared to hope for, and for now, it is enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, I know we've all grown used to Mando and Dyn as his name, but alas canon says Din and so I decided to go with that...


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing but tooth-rotting fluff. (They deserve a break, okay?)  
> And a pinch of UST.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The deity that is cac0daemonia has reached into my brain and conjured up an image of utmost perfection from chapter 9. BEHOLD, and weep at its beauty:
> 
> [](https://imgbb.com/)  
>   
> 

The bunks aren't especially comfortable and the blanket is barely large enough to cover him, but Corin still falls asleep and only starts awake when the other man eventually gets up from the floor next to him.

“Sorry. Just going to put him in the crib. Go back to sleep. I'm turning in too.” The Mandalorian's voice is low and his words gentle, trying to not wake the child or startle Corin at the same time.

Corin grunts his acknowledgment. He shifts a little, trying to get more comfortable, but still keeps one eye on the dark shape until the child is in the crib and the bounty hunter is curled up on the other bed. Not that Corin thinks he would leave the room without telling, but just in case.

Din, Corin reminds himself. It's going to take some getting used to. But it is one adjustment he's happy to make. 'Din'. He rolls the name around in his mind like the exquisite prize it is. His name. Given to Corin. Voluntarily. The Mandalorian's own decision to give him such a prized gift.  
Din.  
Corin thinks about the name until he is back asleep.

The next morning Corin once again starts awake when the Mandalorian, no, Din, gets on his feet, this time from his bunk, and Corin forces himself to sit up. His body complains feebly at the movement, bruises and sore muscles battling for attention, but he makes himself ignore it.

“I thought I would go and secure us some food,” Din says. “You okay?”

Corin nods, sleepily rubbing his face, his stubble, before dragging his hand through his hair. “Yeah. Sure.” He yawns before frowning annoyed as he discovers he has a cut in his lower lip that yawning splits open again. Corin sucks his lower lip in, then begins the struggle of getting out of the bunk with locked up muscles and heavy limbs.

“Here.” Din is suddenly handing him the child, making him sit back on the bunk again. “Take him. Wait here. I'll be back.”

Automatically accepting the child, Corin feels a flicker of unease. “But...”

“I'll be back.” Din reassures, then brushes a light touch over the child's head. “This little Rancor is hungry.”

Corin shakes his head. “You got to give him a name. Seriously.”

“Me?” Din takes a step away and it almost sounds like he's smiling. “I'm not the only one who has a say about his name.” And with a final wave at the child, he walks out of the room.

For a moment, Corin stares at the door, then a coo catches his attention and he glances down at the adorable creature on his lap. “And what was that supposed to mean? Do the entire Covert get a vote on your name? Maybe their leader chooses?” He'd shot down every suggestion Corin made, so...

The child tilts its head and makes a quizzical sound.

“I have no idea.” Corin says, too tired and sore to think too much about it. He adjusts the child over on his right arm, it feels so incredibly good to be able to use it again, and gets up from the bunk by pure willpower. Once up, he stretches and arches his back a little, loosening up, much to the amusement of the child, and then Corin gets an idea.

It is somewhat rare to have access to a shower room for travelers such as them. It might be some time before they have such a luxury again.

“Hey, how about we get you cleaned up?” Corin grabs one of his sleeveless shirts from his bag, figuring it will make do until he'll get the child's clothes clean and dry. “I bet you've never had a shower before.”

It's not too long after that, that he's kneeling in front of the shower and cursing his bad luck. He'd decided to remain on the outside of the actual shower to stay dry himself, be on his knees so he can reach out and support the child, but otherwise let it play around in the shower.  
It had been a great plan. The child had been thrilled at the experience, wobbled around and reached its little hands up against the water, chirping happily. For a while, it was the perfect plan.

And then the kid had decided to use its powers on this wonderful waterfall.

Corin is carrying a clean and dry child wrapped up in his shirt out from the shower room when Din returns. 

The Mandalorian pauses in the doorway at the sight.

Corin walks by him, places the child in the crib and turns to face the other man. Corin knows he's soaked from head to toe, looking more like a half-drowned Wookie than an Imperial soldier. “I decided to introduce him to the shower.”

Din, balancing three bowls, clears his throat before walking over to sit down on the floor next to Corin's bunk again. “And how did that go?”

“Splendid.” Corin replies. “Did you know he can move water with his powers?”

Din shakes his head. But even though the helmet can hide his expression, there is nothing hiding the slight trembling of his shoulders that reveals how he is most definitely laughing under there. “No. No, I did not.” There is absolutely a smile in those word. He places the bowls on the floor and looks up at Corin. “Hungry?”

-

After breakfast and a change of clothes, Corin actually hesitates for a heartbeat when Din offers to show him and the child around. The small room is confining and he can feel the first tingles of restlessness after more sleep than he's had in ages, but the thought of meeting Mandalorians who do not want him there, who sees him as nothing but a Storm Trooper, an intruder, it makes him pause.

“Don't worry. You have permission to be here and they know that you were in on the rescue mission on Nevarro.” Din says, as if he's capable of reading Corin's thoughts. 

Corin manages to put on a smile, if a little tense, and nods. “Sure. Yeah. Let's go.” 

They leave the room and make their way down one of the many long, underground hallways with doors on either side. Most of them sleeping quarters. A handful of Mandalorian pass them on their way, but Corin doesn't see much of a reaction from them at the sight of him other than a cursory glance.  
It's not long before the child is squirming in Din's arms and demands to be allowed to walk on its own. Of course the bounty hunter obeys and after that, it's a very slow stroll to keep its pace.

“Food storage.” Din says as he stops and points at one of the doors while the child patters on ahead of them. “Makeshift kitchen, across the hall.”

Corin nods, about to ask who were allowed to use it, when they hear the sound of several children squealing and laughing. Din nudges him to follow.

After a narrow t-section, they stand in the doorway of a room where their child is aiming to join the group of different sized children of several different species already there.  
Corin glances over at Din with a quizzical look, who replies; “Foundlings.”

Corin turns his gaze back at the children, is relieved to see them welcome the newcomer with open arms and inviting him into the play. After watching them for a little while, Corin quietly asks: “So, anyone can become a Mandalorian?”

“To become a Mandalorian is to become the Creed. You must follow the Resol'nare.” Din explains, sounding strangely intense, his entire focus on him. “It takes a warrior. Someone brave and strong.”

Corin feels the corner of his mouth twitch at a sad smile, knowing that latter part excluded him...

The sound of heavy footsteps interrupts their conversation and both turn to find a Mandalorian in a green armor approaching them.  
“She wants to talk to you.” A deep voice says.

Din nods, sighs, then glances over at Corin. “Stay here. I'll be back.”

Corin nods as well, watching as the one in green leads Din away. He wonders who this 'she' is, but has a strong suspicion that it is the one in the gold helmet. The leader. Why would she want to talk to Din? Because of Corin? Does she resent Corin's presence here? Is Din in trouble because of him? She has already adopted the child as a Foundling, which means that the only piece that doesn't fit in here is namely one disgraced Storm Trooper. Had he brought bad luck to Din too?

“You're him, aren't you?” A voice asks him.

Corin turns a little and finds a group of human and humanoid children standing there in hallway, some with helmets on them, some without, all staring at him. “Him? What?” 

“The outsider.” The group's leader appears to be a lanky, young teenager with a too big helmet. “Everybody is talking about you. And what he did.” The kid tilts his head and the helmet wobbles. “Want to play with us?”

Ever since he stepped on board the Razor Crest, Corin feels like he's been living in a state of more or less constant confusion, but here he reaches a record level. So they were talking about him? And who 'he', who did what? “Uh...”

“We're playing Mandalorians, but we need a bounty.” The kid explains to him, slowly, so that Corin will be able to keep up. “Could you be a Hutt? Or some Weeqay pirate?”

Glancing back at the little child busy playing with his new friends, seeing he is happy and quite content without his presence, Corin turns back to the gaggle of children and shrugs. “Why not?”

It's not like he's got something better to do.

And this is why Din comes back to finding Corin in the training room, near where the child is playing, and currently being swarmed by five child-Mandalorians as they try to physically bring down their prey. Corin ignores his battered body's complaints and makes sure to wobble, struggle and make for a very dramatic death under their combined weight pressing him down.

Once he's down and 'dead', the children jump up and starts a very enthusiastic celebration. Opening one eye, Corin sees Din cross his arms in a lazy move and lean his shoulder against the door frame. 

“I do believe I saw Barthor looking for you children.” Din drawls. “You should go find him and get some real training instead of bothering our visitors.”

With loud cheers, and even a pat or two on Corin's head as a reward for his participation, the children storm out of the room and goes hunting for their teacher.

-

Once the children are gone, Corin gets up and Din wanders in.  
The Mandalorian shakes his head. “You're supposed to be resting.” He scolds mildly.

Corin snorts. “I'm fine.”

“Is that so?” Din reaches out his gloved hand and takes a hold of Corin's chin, gently drawing his thumb over where the cut in Corin's lower lip has split open again to spill a single drop of blood.

Flustered, suddenly remembering too keenly how it had felt to have the man's bare touch just like that, Corin shoves his hand away and sucks his lower lip in for a moment to remove the blood. “Yeah. I'm fine.”  
Din hums, as if he doesn't quite believe him.  
“Hey, I just took on a whole group of Mandalorians.” Corin warns him with a smile.

“Yeah, and you lost.” Din points out drily.

Shaking his head, backing up a step, lifting his hands, Corin sighs regretfully. “Now, you realize you just forced me into defending my honor?”

Making a head-movement that radiates incredulity, Din huffs a laugh. “Are you serious?”

“Come on.” Corin teases. “It's either this or push ups, and frankly? I'm bored of push-ups.”

“You need to rest.” Din points out again, clearly aiming to be stubborn.

Corin grins, driven by some idiotic rush at the idea of training with Din. “Afraid I'll win?”

This brings a snort of a laugh from the helmet, then the man begins to unload his weapons into a neat little pile on the floor and Corin realizes with a jolt that he's getting his way.

Once there is nothing either of them will accidentally stab themselves on or shoot themselves with, Din begins to circle Corin like some predator looking for a weak spot and that _really_ shouldn't be making heat curl up tight in Corin's belly. Lucky for him, it doesn't take long for the Mandalorian to dart into his first, if half-hearted, attack, which Corin easily deflects.

It continues like that for a while; Din prodding and taunting, Corin deflecting and getting increasingly frustrated. He's not sure whether the Mandalorian thinks he can't handle it or if he's merely hoping to make him so angry he'll lower his guard.  
Whatever his motive is, that changes once Corin manages to land a pretty good smack to Din's helmet while blocking another of his sloppy attacks.

Snorting like an offended tauntaun, the Mandalorian rolls his shoulders and then he starts getting a little more serious. He moves faster, punches a little harder and gets in closer.

And, okay, maybe Din has a point. Corin can easily feel his muscles complain and not work at optimal capacity, but this is mostly for fun so he ignores the discomfort and revels in the work out. It's definitely getting more interesting. The next time he blocks one of the bounty hunter's punches, it draws a little sound out from Corin's lips at the strain.

It makes Din roll his shoulders again. When he moves in for a new attack, Corin lifts his arms to block, but the Mandalorian ducks down and suddenly has his arms around Corin's waist, locks them there and flips him over his hip.

Corin hits the ground with a yelp, though him landing on his back is controlled by the Mandalorian easing him down more than dropping him, so it doesn't take more than a second for him to quickly throw out a leg and swipe Din's feet under him. Who needs luck when you got no shame?

The surprised sound the man makes as he falls on his ass is worth any kind of punishment Corin will get for the move. He can't even contain a triumphant cackle, trying to scramble up on his feet, but yelps again when he feels Din's hand around his ankle and then he's yanked back to be flipped over on his back. Corin is just drawing a breath to crow out the fact that at least he managed to bring him down to his level when Din moves up to pin Corin's wrists to the floor, and the air gets stuck in Corin's throat when he feels the Mandalorian's thigh push itself between his. Din isn't using his body weight to hold Corin down, but he's hovering dangerously close.

Oh. Corin swallows. _Oh._ He's trying to stay professional but his damn body isn't listening! 

-

Driven by a slight case of panic, Corin bucks up and manages to flip Din over to reverse their positions, but shifts up so he can straddle his stomach and leans forward to pin the Mandalorian's wrists to the ground.  
Din huffs amused, then tries to counter with the same move Corin just pulled, but Corin knows he can't risk being caught in that position again without embarrassing himself, so he uses his weight by moving his hips and the brute force in his arms to _shove_ Din back down again.

It pushes a sound from the bounty hunter's lips. Oh, that... It's a sound Corin has never heard him make before.

For some reason, after that, Corin can't move. If he does, he'll do something stupid. He can't risk it.

Strangely enough, Din doesn't move either. Doesn't try to free himself again. Barely breathes.

“Seriously? Here?” Paz' voice rumbles from where he's standing in the doorway, clearly on his way to train as well. “Can't you do this in your quarters?” He spins around to leave.

Relieved at the interruption, Corin releases the wrists and sits up so he's merely straddling Din's stomach, sending the big Mandalorian's back an annoyed look, pointing out; “There's really not enough room in our quarters for this.” How could he expect them to train in such a small area?

The sound of Paz physically walking into someone in the hallway is mixed up with Din snorting a laugh.

Corin looks down at Din. “He really doesn't want me here, does he?” He can't blame him. Corin is, after all, the enemy. Bad luck.

Sighing, Din's hands comes up to rest lightly on top of Corin's thighs. “Trust me, if he had a problem with you being here, he would tell you. Out loud.” He absently trails a finger along the curve of a thigh muscle. “Paz always speaks his mind.” Then he reaches out and lightly slaps Corin's hip. “Now, up. I think that's more than enough exercise for you today. Let your body heal. We had agreement about not mindlessly pushing through the pain, remember?”

Corin grunts, reluctantly getting up and holding out a hand to him. “Fine.” When Din takes his hand, he pulls him up and close, and grins his most obnoxiously smug smile. “But I won this round.”

Din nods towards the pile of weapons on the floor. “I can still shoot you.” An echo of their very first meeting, a life time ago.

Smiling wider, strangely confident, Corin answers; “No, you won't.” Din is not the kind of man who would shoot someone he considers a friend.

Grumbling as his bluff is called, Din moves by him and bends down to pick up his weapons again. “You want to see the rest of the location?

“Sure.” Corin decides not to push it and merely revels in his little victory and good luck. He follows the bounty hunter out of the training room and over to where they can look in on the child. It is still in the middle of some game, but looks up and patters over with an eager sound when it sees Din, who wastes no time in picking it up before turning back to Corin. “Okay, let's go.”

It is an unexpected amount of underground rooms and hallways at this location. It's no surprise that the most impressive ones are the armory with all its weapons and ammunition and, of course, the lair of the one in the golden helmet that they pass by with quiet respect. Corin is constantly expecting someone to point out the fact that he shouldn't be there, an outsider, but there is still nothing but mild indifference or mild curiosity to be found from the other Mandalorians.

But the time they are back up on the upper level, there is just one time when Corin feels Din won't quite answer his questions, which is in regards to some pretty severe damage done to a hallway.  
“There, uh, there was a fight. Two Mandalorians. No big deal.” Din says, sounding awkward.

Not wanting to make him talk about something that makes Din uncomfortable, Corin changes the subject. He ends up forgetting about it all together when they enter the spectator seats above what looks like a rather large fighting pit. “What is this?” A lot of other Mandalorians are already seated.

“A way to burn off energy and settle scores between warriors while waiting for a mission,” Din explains. “Wait here. I'll check out who will be the entertainment.”

Obediently, Corin takes a seat, accepts the now drowsy child into his arms and decides to focus on it and not the surroundings in case he'd meet some hostility there.

-

Moments later, a familiar Beskar pauldron is suddenly shoved in front of Corin's face.

Startled, Corin looks up and finds himself, for the second time that day, looking at Paz. Who is currently holding out the pauldron for him to take back, it seems.  
Confused, Corin automatically reaches up and takes the pauldron with a quizzical look. 

“I should have known something was wrong. No one with a pretty face like yours would have chosen to stay with that nuisance if they had any other choice.” Paz mutters. “Only an ex-imperial fool would stay with him voluntarily.”

Ducking his head slightly under the shame of his past, Corin forces himself to endure the harsh truth. He is what he is.  
A gentle touch to his arm catches his attention and he sees the child watching him with a worried look on its face. Corin makes himself put on a reassuring smile. He can do this. Still, it takes a lot of willpower before Corin manages to lift his gaze up to Paz again and hold the pauldron back up to him. “I shouldn't have this.”

“Are you still working for the Empire or their shitty war lords?”

Corin shakes his head. Not since Din gave him a chance to escape that life. And never again.

“Then it is yours.” Paz grumbles the statement. “For putting up with that idiot.”

“But-”

“This is the way.” Paz states, clearly putting an end to that. He turns to walk away, but pauses for a moment, then reaches up to his throat and glances back at Corin. “You're not weak. Clearly insane, throwing yourself into an ocean with a full armor on, and with questionable taste in partners, but you're not weak. _Mandokarla_.”

Someone steps up to Corin just as Paz walks away and he glances up to find Din hovering there with an aura of tension verging on aggression. “What did he want?” Din asks warily.

Corin shows him the pauldron. “He said I wasn't weak?”

Scoffing, Din kneels down next to him and starts to attach the pauldron to Corin's shoulder. “You're stronger than he'll ever be.”

Corin is about to point out the absurdity of that statement, Paz is massive, but the words gets lost when Din, finished attaching the pauldron, reaches up and gently brushes a lock of Corin's hair away from his face with a light finger.  
After that, the bounty hunter sits down next to him and starts talking about the two Mandalorians who have decided to settle their differences with a good old hand to hand combat and the background for their disagreement, but Corin barely hears what he's saying because his heart is beating so hard and his skin feels like its glowing.

An amused coo catches his attention and Corin glances down at the child lying on his lap, facing him and sees it giggling triumphantly.

Corin quickly pretends to watch the fight instead.

Later they even head outside and Corin gets to catch up with Liita, who is halfway into the engine of one of the Mandalorians' ship.  
“I thought you wanted to go home?” Corin grins, leaning against the ship.

“Mmh. Yes. Ideally.” Liita replies, holding out her hand without looking and he hands her a spanner. “But these people have clearly no idea how to maintain their ships and I have to save them from themselves. Much like you and that other one.”

Both the chief mechanic and Din stops playing with the child nearby to look over and absolutely everything about their poses screamed of their offense at such words.

Corin turns back to Liita, in hopes that they won't see or hear him laughing.

-

After this day, it makes absolutely no sense why Corin should find himself back on Nevarro, facing Moff Gideon with so much terror in his veins that he can barely think, until the sound of a blaster and the feeling of blood splattering over his face makes him wake up with a gasp for air.  
Heart thundering, Corin blinks several times in the darkness, trying to make his body understand it was just a nightmare and no need for it to keep shaking and twitching. Just a nightmare, dammit.

“Corin?” Din's voice whispers in the darkness.

Great. He'd woken the Mandalorian up too with his idiocy. Corin wets his dry lips and tries to sound normal. “I'm fine. It's nothing. Go back to sleep. I'm fine.” Dammit, why is it so hard to breathe?

There is a long moment of silence, then Din sighs and there is the sound of his bunk grumbling its objections to him moving before there is the sound of footsteps. “Scoot over.” Din says.

“What?” Corin looks over to see the barely visible shape of the other man shuffling over to him and he automatically shifts over to give him room on the bunk most definitely not designed for two grown men. “You don't... I'm fine.”

Still, Din crawls in, smart enough to bring his own blanket as Corin's barely covers him, and he settles down next to him, shoulder to shoulder, until Corin realizes that this means Din can feel him still faintly trembling so he rolls over on his side, his back towards the other man. Stop shaking!

Another moment of silence follows, then Din says; “I hated huddling with the others.” His voice is calm and almost affectionate. “Raga is a kicker. Paz sprawls. And Barthor farts. A lot.”

Corin bites his lip to keep from laughing, but can't quite smother the sound.

“I swear, even our filters couldn't defeat that smell. It could melt Beskar.” Din states with awe.

That finally breaks Corin, makes him laugh, and he inches over on his back again, looking over at where he can see the faint outline of the helmet. “My friend, Pat, he used to talk in his sleep. And he'd say the weirdest things...” He hasn't spoken about Pat in years. None of them.

“At least you could get something funny out of it.” Din makes a thoughtful sound. “We merely got traumatized by the stench.”

Corin has to let out another soft laugh and suddenly realizes the trembling is gone, his heartbeat is calming down, same as his breathing. He feels... safe. “Thank you.”

“For warning you of which end of Barthor is the dangerous one? You are very welcome.” Din nudges his shoulder lightly against his.

Smiling, Corin shifts over on his side again, but this time facing Din, and inches over to rest his head on the Mandalorian's shoulder in a trying move. When he's not rebuffed, Corin closes his eyes, listens to Din's breathing and clenches his hands to keep from curling up real close to him. “I mean thank you for this. For everything.” He hesitates, then adds; “Din.”

For a moment, the Mandalorian goes completely still, then it is almost as if he's the one who shivers, before he whispers; “Sleep, Corin. We're safe here.”

And Corin believes him. He's almost asleep again when there is the sound of shuffling and Din moves slightly before whispering; “Alright. Come up here, you little Womp Rat.”

The little crib-escape-artist chirps happily when it is scooped up by Din from where it is standing on the floor next to them. It is lifted up on the bunk and moved over to settle down between them.

Corin automatically pulls his blanket up to cover the child as well, strokes its head while seeing Din's hand gently run over its back, smiles, and after that it is not long before they're all asleep with no bad dreams to haunt them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, uhm, for those of you who were waiting for Cara's arrival, I decided to postpone her until chapter 11 and give her a proper scene instead of merely giving her two lines and not give that awesome woman her due. I hope I am forgiven!  
> As for the action and angst enthusiasts, don't worry. This peace won't last forever. ^_^
> 
> And feel free to check out [my Tumblr.](https://sulphuryasecretcloset.tumblr.com/)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corin makes a change to his looks.  
> Corin makes a friend.  
> Din flirts shamelessly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, update is a little delayed this time due to things, but here we are! Read at your convenience! ;)
> 
> Also, HUGE thanks to our deity cac0daemonia, who have captured what Din is planning to do if Corin doesn't start to realize certain things soon!
> 
> [](https://imgbb.com/)  
>   
> 

For once, Corin doesn't wake with a start, but rather with a lazy stretch and a drawn out sound of contentment. That is, until he realizes that he's not alone in the bed and while the child has worked as a marvelous barrier for Corin to keep his hands to himself and the blankets are between them; he is currently dragging his ankle up Din's shin as he stretches.  
Just as Corin yanks his leg away, Din lets out a drowsy exhale and stretches a little as well. 

“Morning.”

“Yeah, uh,” Corin can feel his face is burning, “morning.” He considers apologizing, but it doesn't appear like the other man is upset by the incident. There is no anger there in the lines of his body.

Still, it's not long before the Mandalorian gets up from the bunk, glancing back at Corin and the sleeping child. “I'll get us some breakfast.” 

Corin wants to object, knowing it technically is his turn, but Din merely rubs his own wrist in an absent movement and walks out of the room before Corin can find the words.  
Moving the child over to the crib, deciding to let it sleep until Din's return and save himself having to pry everything out of its hungry mouth until then, Corin allows himself a quick shower, he's going to miss that luxury, and by the time he re-enters the room; Din is already there and feeding the child.  
“Sorry,” Corin says, “I was just...” He gestures towards the shower room.

Din, wisely enough, does not look up from where his fingers are dangerously near the child's mouth. “What are you apologizing for?” He briefly nods over towards the bowls on the floor by the bunk. “I put ours there. Eat yours while its still warm.”

About to apologize for apologizing, Corin luckily realizes how ridiculous it would sound and merely walks over to have his breakfast. “Thank you.”  
But the second he and the child are done eating, Corin doesn't hesitate to swoop up the little one in his arms and declare they were going to go to the training room, so Din can finally remove his helmet and eat as well.

“Don't overdo it,” Din says in a tense voice, probably preferring that Corin didn't work out until the bruises were gone all together.

“Stop if it hurts. I remember,” Corin reassures him. “Catch you later.”

He does intend to head to the training room, do a little careful training, play with the child, but once again Corin is distracted by the sounds coming from where the child had been playing with others the last time. Only now it isn't Foundlings who are laughing, but rather a weird buzzing sound.  
Corin glances down at the child, mutely asking for its opinion, it merely looks back up at him with its adorable face, which he decides probably means for him to check out the sound. So he does.

It turns out to be a group of Foundlings getting their hair cut by a tall, slender Mandalorian with a sharp cutting device. There is only one young boy left with wild hair and he eagerly steps forward and the Mandalorian in a green and dark gray armor makes quick work of the blond locks.  
Like by some unheard signal, the second the final strand of hair is cut, all the children cheer and flood out of the room, forcing Corin to step inside the room or risk getting swept along with them down the hallway. Looking after them, he huffs a little smile that quickly dies when he realizes the Mandalorian is staring at him.

“Can I help you?” A female voice says.

“N-no. Sorry.” Corin lowers his gaze, about to turn away and leave, when a thought strikes him.  
Glancing back, he sees the Mandalorian preparing to clean up the hair on the floor and Corin gathers his courage to speak. “I, uhm, I was wondering...”

The Mandalorian looks over at him again. “Yes?”

“Could I borrow...?” Corin hoists the child over on his left arm so he can gesture to the cutter and his own hair. He swallows nervously as it makes the Mandalorian straighten her back and he can almost feel her critical eye scanning him. “If that was rude,” he says, “I didn't mean to offend. I-”

“Get in here.” The Mandalorian orders, reaching out to her left to grab a hold of a chair and pulling it out to stand in the middle of the room. “Sit.”

Automatically responding to the authority in her voice, Corin is sitting down on the chair before he really knows what he's doing. And he's even more surprised when she runs both of her hands thoroughly through his hair, checking the length and the smoothness.

“How do you want it?” She asks.

Corin shrugs. “Just cut it. All of it.” A buzz cut had always been most practical under the helmet so Corin has always opted for that. He'd been way overdue for a cut back when Din had saved his hide from those mercenaries meaning to execute him, and ever since then there really hadn't been a good time to get a hair cut. 

The Mandalorian hums and draws her hands through his hair again. “Hmm, no.” She straightens and gets the clipper. “No, I don't think I will. That would be a war crime. Now, sit still.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Corin answers meekly and sits still as clippers starts to cut away.

-

It takes a hell of a lot longer than with the young Foundling. The Mandalorian cuts, draws her hands through his hair, works from different angles, and clearly the child can feel how nervous Corin is as it makes a quizzical chirp from where it is sitting on his lap.  
Corin puts on a brave smile to reassure it, then frowns and gently brushes away the cut hair which has landed on its head and giving it a rather interesting new hair-do, before he comforts himself with the fact that he can always get a proper buzz cut later.

After what feels like a small eternity, the Mandalorian finally turns off the clippers and brushes off Corin's neck and shoulders. “There.” She circles him to stand in front of him again and gives a decisive nod, clearly pleased. “Yes.”

Corin blinks. “Okay...?”

“So you're the Outsider.” The Mandalorian says, her helmet tipping lightly down and back up again as she clearly scans him from his face to his feet and up again. “You look different from how I imagined you.”

Not sure if that is a compliment or an insult, Corin glances over at the door and wonders how he can escape in the most polite way. “Yeah, uhm, so, thank you. For this. I, er, I should be going...”

“Are you and him married?”

Corin suddenly misses his longer hair to hide the heat he can feel crawling up towards his now far more exposed nape. “What? No. No, uh, that's, no, we're, ah, we're not, he's not...” He slowly gets to his feet, brushing more left-over hair with his free hand and holding the child close with the other. “I really should be going...”

The Mandalorian takes a step towards him, scanning him once more now that he's standing up and giving her a full view and she makes a sound of approval. “Which means you are still free?”

His brain stalls for a moment, leaving him mute, then Corin feels a moment of being incredibly flattered and amazed, a _Mandalorian_ showing this kind of interest in him, talk about good luck, before he smiles and gives her a salute. “Thank you for the cut, ma'am.”

While he does head to the training room, Corin finds his heart is not into his work out. He does some obligatory sets, but he quickly finds it far more fun and interesting to play with the child who is climbing all over him and having great fun trying to hold on like a Blurrg rider while he does his push ups and sit ups. This is the reason why Corin is in the middle of a particularly intense raspberry on the squealing child's stomach when he hears Din's voice.

“I take it this is some secret technique to strengthen your lung capacity?”

The raspberry fizzles out in a laugh and Corin releases the child, who quickly flees to safety, before sitting up and turning to face the other man. “Yes. And it is very efficient, I'll have you know.”

There is a strange twitch to Din's shoulders and there is a moment before he speaks. “Your hair?”

Having forgotten about that, Corin gets up on his feet and awkwardly rubs at his neck, again feeling how short it is compared to earlier. “Yeah, uhm, there was this nice lady, I mean, Mandalorian, who were giving some Foundlings hair cuts. She was kind enough to including me.”

Din makes a non-committing sound and walks over to stand in front of him. “Turn.”

Corin hesitates, not sure he heard right. “What?” Oh, this couldn't be good...

Din lifts his hand and makes a demonstrative horizontal circle with his index finger. “Turn around. Let me see.”

Hesitating a couple of seconds more, still not sure he heard right, Corin finally does a slow and tense turn before facing him again. “Happy?” He clears his throat. “For the record, I told her to cut it all. She decided to do this instead.” Leave some length on top, short at the sides and the back.  
He knows his father and his drill sergeant would have been fighting each other to reprimand Corin first for such an unprofessional look. It figures Corin couldn't even get his hair cut without bad luck.

Din's helmet tilts a little. His voice sounds... approving. “I like it.”

“You do?” Corin asks despite how he knows Din wouldn't lie to him. Corin is struck with a weird urge to find the Mandalorian and thank her and actually mean it this time.

“Yeah, I like it.” Din says. It sounds like he's smiling. “You look good.”

Corin finds himself smiling back, a little surprised. “Thank you.” Maybe him looking a little less like a soldier and more like, well, Corin, wasn't necessarily a bad thing? Was that allowed here?

A sudden and loud hammering on the open door makes Corin, Din and the child jump, and they all turn to find Raga standing in the doorway.

-

“Paz advised me to knock before I entered. Am I interrupting anything?” Raga looks from one to the other.

Din clears his throat and walks over to pick up the child before turning to face her. “What do you want, Raga?”

“I have someone here who wants to meet your boy.” She steps inside the room and two other Mandalorians follow her.

Corin has one moment of reeling at being called Din's boy, then he recognizes the blue armors and realizes that the two now standing in front of him are the ones they had gone to save on Nevarro.

“This is Arsu and Azizos.” Raga says, gesturing to the two. “The twins. They don't talk much, but they wanted to thank you for helping out on Nevarro.”

Corin shakes his head, both to rid himself of the confusion and to show there really was no need. He didn't remember much of what had happened after Din had shot Nedar, but he does remember seeing two Mandalorians in blue armor fighting mercenaries outside of the building. “You guys helped save my hide too. I'd say we're even, if there ever was a debt.”

One of the twins shakes their head. “You had no debt and chose to help us. We won't forget that.”

Corin searches for the right words to follow that but then Raga's hand grabs his lower face and squeezes it and he is too surprised to speak, or object, or do much but to stare at her.  
“I need to borrow this fine mug.” She says.

Din steps up next to Corin. “Why?”

“There is a merchant in the town. He tends to charge double for his goods the second he sees a Mandalorian. He knows we're stuck here for now and can't go elsewhere.” Raga explains, allowing Din to slap her hand away when she still hasn't let go and Corin sends his Mandalorian a pleading glance. “We still have room for more stuff on the relocation shuttle, but credits are running low. Corin can get us the goods at the standard price.” Her voice turns smug. “I bet if he smiles, we could even get a discount.”

When Din glances over at him, Corin gives a little shrug. “I'm fairly certain my smile won't influence the price, but I don't mind posing as a buyer if it can help?”

“Excellent!” Raga says, grabbing Corin's arm and pulling him towards the door. “We just got to strip you of that armor first. The merchant is an idiot, but he'd recognize that.” Just as sudden, she yanks him to a halt and points at finger back at Din, trailing behind them. “Yeah, not you.”

Din's helmet snaps back as if she'd slapped his face. “What? Why?”

“The chief mechanic wants a word with you. Something about something your Zeltron said.” Raga then huffs. “Don't worry. I'll look after your _ka'rta_. He'll be fine.”

Corin hears Din stuttering something, frozen on the spot with the squirming child in his arms, while Corin is forced to stumble after Raga as she yanks him along again.

Changing out of his Mandalorian armor, carefully wrapping up the Beskar pauldrons before storing them under his bunk, Corin is soon wearing civilian clothing and walking through the town marked place.  
Maybe it is what happened the last time he was here that makes Corin so wary about his surroundings, but at least that means he catches glimpses of Raga and the twins hiding among the crowd and the buildings as he makes his way to the merchant, like good luck watching over him.

Much as Raga predicted, the man makes no effort to turn up the cost once he is dealing with a regular civilian and Corin feels a warm satisfaction at the knowledge that he's useful, he's helping Din's family, and he's not even aware of the fact that he is smiling before the merchant says, with a wink, that he'll add two more boxes with food.  
Corin doesn't tell Raga.

Getting payment done, supervising the goods being moved to the docking area to be loaded on to the ships, it takes quite some time, yet when Corin is back in the town and Raga appears like a ghost to hover by his side after sending the twins back to the Covert, he's not quite ready to go underground again.

-

“You go.” He tells Raga. “I just want to stop by the bar, grab something to drink. I'll find my own way back.” Corin suspects if there is anything to drink in the Covert, it is that scary Mandalorian wine. He can't really remember leaving the table when he'd indulged in that, but he remembers too clearly how it had managed to lower Din's inhibitions to such a degree that he'd actually removed his glove and touched Corin's face. Dangerous stuff. He can't gamble on that kind of luck.

“I promised to keep an eye on you.” Raga grumbles.

Corin grins. “Then you're going to the bar too, I guess?”

For a moment, he sees her clench her hands into tight fists and Corin suddenly remembers the damage done to the wall she had headbutted, but then, to his relief, she sighs and nods.

The bar is pretty crowded, but mostly around the counter, which means Corin has no problem finding a table for him to sit by and look around at the different faces with mild curiosity. He's still not used to being able to move around without drawing hateful looks. His Storm Trooper armor had really turned him into a big walking target. Raga sits down with an annoyed sound.

A big mug with something that looks like ale is placed in front of him with a firm thump and Corin turns just in time to see Cara sitting down next to him, lifting her own mug with an arched eyebrow.  
“Sorry?” She says.

Frowning, Corin considers for a moment, then he sighs and picks up the mug to tap it lightly against hers. “I did try to tell you.” He takes a gulp from the ale and finds it to taste pretty okay.

Cara shrugs, taking a heavy pull from her own mug before putting it down on the table. “Yeah, well, most of the Imps I've caught try to spin that tale. I thought you were like them.”

Corin sends her a curious look. “What changed your mind?”

Cara merely shrugs again. “Too many things not adding up. Figured it couldn't hurt to check out your story.” She glances over at him and grins. “Your Mando was quite convincing.”

Suddenly very thirsty, Corin grabs his mug and takes a big mouthful of ale before he manages to conjure up an answer. “Yeah, he...” He clears his throat. “He's a good friend.”

The amount of talking happening in the bar makes it difficult for Corin to judge whether Raga did snort a laugh or not, but there is no mistaking the blank look Cara is sending him. “He is,” Corin reassures her.

“A friend?” Cara shakes her head and laughs with something like disbelief. “Man, when I told him I'd handed you over to Nedar for execution, he went ballistic. And I mean, _ballistic_.”

Corin swallows, even though he forgot to take a sip of ale first. “While it was my own damn fault for not paying attention to my surroundings, he still felt it was his fault for not being there. He's saved my life so many times I've lost count. He feels responsible for me, like he does his son.”

Cara merely stares at him for a little while longer, then she lifts her mug and points at him with it. “You are very lucky that you're a good-looking idiot, otherwise you'd just be an idiot.” She leans back and empties the rest of her mug into her mouth.

This time Corin has no doubt that Raga snorts a laugh. He sends her an annoyed glance before picking up his own mug and drinking from it.

One ale becomes two, which then becomes three. Cara and Raga even discover they share a love for big weapons and explosives, to which Corin merely drinks more, before a familiar voice speaks from behind Corin.

“So this is where you're hiding.”

Corin starts, ducking his head down, but in the same instant; recognizes the voice and quickly unfolds to lean back and gaze back up at Din's familiar form standing there. “Hi.” He smiles, then notices that someone is missing. “Is the kid okay? Where is he?”

“Hi.” Din replies. He sounds amused. “The child is fine. He's with a friend of mine.”

Cara moves one chair over and pats her seat located next to Corin. “Have a seat, Mando. Join us.” And when he does, she leans towards him with a wide grin. “We are all _friends_ here.”  
Raga doesn't even try to hide her laugh this time. 

Din tilts his head a little. “Good. You could need some new friends. Your old ones are pretty shitty.”

Cara blinks, then she starts laughing and waves for new ales to be delivered.

It turns out that Cara and Din have the same sharp sense of humor and quickly act like they have been friends for years instead of recent enemies. Corin would have hated it if not for how much he enjoys watching Din all relaxed and almost playful.  
By the end of the evening, even Raga is singing along with them.

-

Early next morning, they are woken up by someone knocking on the door and Din gets up from the bunk on the other side of the room to answer it while Corin merely burrows his face deeper into his own pillow. He had been far from drunk off his ass the previous evening, which meant he wasn't all that hung over and in possession of his every memory of what had happened, but he feels tired.

Corin hears Din speaking in Mando'a and the other person's voice is unfamiliar to him, but suddenly the tone in Din's voice makes Corin frown and glance up. He sounds... anxious? The man even sends a quick glance back at Corin.  
By the time Din closes the door and turns around, Corin is sitting up on the bunk and has a tense knot in his stomach. Even the child is standing silently in its crib, watching Din.

Corin doesn't have to see the bounty hunter's facial expression, he can see distress in every line and movement of his body. “What's wrong?”

“She, uh...” Din glances at the door and then back at Corin again. “She wants to talk to you.”

She? Corin opens his mouth to ask who he meant and then the meaning struck him like lightning; the one in the golden helmet. Their leader. She.  
Recoiling on the bunk, Corin feels a flutter of panic. “But, why? I didn't do anything! I swear! I didn't!” He gulps for air, feeling his throat snaring up and making it hard to breathe. “I didn't!”

Din nods, walking over to take Corin's face between his gloved hands, forcing him to look up and focus on him instead of disappearing deeper into his fear. “Listen, it doesn't have to mean anything bad.”

Who was he kidding? Corin was born under an unlucky star. “But...”

“Just get dressed. We have to go now.” Din releases him and steps away, clearly every bit as uneasy as Corin, despite his own words. “She's waiting.”

They get dressed in silence, even the child's nervous chirps are only absently comforted, and the walk towards where the Mandalorians' leader is waiting feels like Corin is walking towards his own execution.

Once they reach the room, Corin has to reluctantly hand the child over to Din, his heart breaking as it warbles anxiously and reaches out for him again, and then he steps inside the door to where the leader is waiting for him. He starts slightly when the door shuts behind him, but he keeps his eyes on the Mandalorian standing by a forge.

The room is a lot smaller and less practical than the one he'd barely seen in Nevarro, but it is a functional forge with countless blacksmith tools hanging on the wall and lying around on different surfaces. The Mandalorian in the gold helmet picks up a Beskar helmet with some tongs and drops it into the flames.  
Corin kneels on the ground a few steps inside the door and waits for judgment to fall.

After a while, the Mandalorian speaks while keeping her focus on the forge. “We don't usually allow Outsiders here.” She sends him a brief glance. “Especially not former Imperial soldiers, Corin Valentis.”

Corin clenches his jaw to keep from visibly trembling with anxiety. He lowers his head, stares at the ground. “I appreciate your generosity allowing me to stay with him and the child. I know my past and my family name of Valentis makes me unworthy of being here among you.”

The Mandalorian steps forward until she is standing in front of him. She says something in Mando'a and then translates it for Corin to understand; “Nobody cares who your father was, only the father you'll be.”

Casting a glance up at her, Corin barely dares to breathe. Those words... Does she mean...? Is there hope, even with the shadow of CT-113 and his family hanging over him?

“There is no Creed to bind you to that Foundling.” She states.

Corin straightens a little, meeting her stare. “There is. Mine. I will never turn my back on that child. Never. I will defend that child until my dying breath. The child and Din, both.”

The Mandalorian makes a thoughtful hum, then turns and walks back to the forge. She picks up something that she dips gently in the melted Beskar. “You can't stay here.”

Bitter disappointment floods through Corin. While he knew this would happen, it still hurts. Without the child and Din, he has nothing. Even if he wouldn't be shot on sight if he returned to his duties as a Storm Trooper, Corin knows he wouldn't be able to go back. Not anymore. Everything is different. He is different.

“Tomorrow we shall be leaving for the new location. Our ships are prepared.” The Mandalorian leader continues, pouring melted Beskar into a small shape. “Din Djarin must follow a different way. Will you follow him?”

“Yes.” Corin doesn't hesitate, renewed hope in his heart. He was allowed to continue traveling with Din and the child? Was his devotion to the child more important in the eyes of the Mandalorians than the sins of his father? It seems too good to be true. He was never this lucky. Right?

Picking up a hammer to start pounding on whatever she is working on, the one in the golden helmet nods. “Then it has been decided. We are done here.”

-

Din is hovering in the hallway outside of the room, clutching the child and tapping its back with his fingers in a way that seems to be meant to distract himself as much as comfort the child. The second he sees Corin storming out of the room, he moves over. “Well?”  
The child chirps and its ears perks up.

Corin exhales a smile, shrugging before reaching out and drawing his fingers up the child's ears. “She said I could continue traveling with you.” His smile wavers slightly as he suddenly realizes something. “That is, if you want me to?”

Snorting a laugh, Din hands him the child. “Do you have to ask? Really?”

And Corin's smile returns along with his confidence. “I had to pretend to give you a choice.” He leans down and blows a raspberry on top of the child's head, delighting in its laughter and deftly avoids getting his face clawed to shreds as it flails. “I'm afraid you two are quite stuck with me.”

As it is the Mandalorians last evening on that particular location, it is decided to have a gathering outside of the building and blow off some steam before traveling to their new and permanent location and going back into hiding again. Corin decides they most definitely need to join in on this.

A quick check on Liita reveals that she has installed a hammock in the cargo area of the Razor Crest and that she will electrocute anyone who tries to drag her to any place with a crowd. They leave her to whatever she's working on and heads towards the celebration.  
Corin has brought the sling and wanders around with the child on his back and Din by his side. He sees plenty of Mandalorians clash together in fights to measure strength, but some sing and play instruments that would bring in a fortune on the big scenes, some even danced, while others are quietly crouched over board games with lethal focus and dedication. 

Corin is surprised to find Cara there. He is not surprised to find her in the middle of an arm-wrestling contest with small piles of credits on the table.

They end up leaning back against a fence and watching Paz fight three other Mandalorians for a while, until the child starts to struggle its way out of the sling with a trilling sound.  
“What?” Corin shifts the sling forward and helps it out. “What is it?”

The child eagerly points and they look over to see one of the locals walking around and selling fried Gorg. As Corin kind of want to see if Paz can defeat the two Mandalorians still standing, Din takes the child and heads over to get it its snack while he stays behind.  
Corin climbs up to sit on the fence and gets comfortable, hoping to pick up some techniques and gets quite lost in the event.

By the time Din and the child returns, a lot more people are watching the fight and Din makes an annoyed sound at finding no free spots next to a fascinated Corin still sitting on the fence.  
The child merely stands next to Din and munches happily on its food, safe as every Mandalorian knows to watch their step when there are young ones around.

“Only one left.” Corin informs Din absently, more than a little impressed with both the beatings Paz can take without going down and the beatings he hands out with glee. He's about to offer to get down from the fence so they can find another spot when the words gets stuck in his throat. He's made to sit up straight when Din steps in front of him, turns and burrows back so he fits between Corin's knees, then his thighs, until his back is against Corin's stomach and he settles there.

Corin is too stunned to watch the fight, can only feel when Din's arms move up and comes back down to trap his thighs between them and Din's ribs. He has no idea what to do with his own arms, can't really find a comfortable position that doesn't include him touching Din in some way, and he suffers the discomfort for a while until he gets annoyed enough to find the courage needed.

Corin leans forward a little, supporting himself against the upper part of Din's back, his cheek barely brushing against the cool side of the Beskar helmet, and loosely wraps his arms around Din to rest them on top of his breastplate.  
His heart does a weird little back-flip when Din's hand comes up to rest on top of Corin's arm and his thumb brushes over the fabric of his jacket.

Yeah, Corin forgets all about Paz' fight. He can't focus on anything but this. He only feels a brief moment of embarrassment as he hears, and then sees, the child giggling up at him from where it stands on the ground. He makes a face at it, but that only makes it giggle louder.

The crowd roars and Corin's gaze snap up to see Paz stand victorious over the other Mandalorians and he exhales a faint laugh. “How smug is he going to be after this?”

Din grunts. “Unbearable.” He clicks his tongue. “We should leave. He always wants to fight me during these things. And now he's going to want to get back at me for...”

The words trail off but they catch Corin's attention. “For?”

Din doesn't move or speak for a moment, then his arms go around Corin's thighs and he pulls him forward as he steps forward, carrying him along on his back like an overgrown child, with the actual child tottering after them. “Time to go.”

Corin yelps, tightening his grip with his thighs and his arms before he realizes that Din has a good hold on him and that he's in no danger of falling, so he actually relaxes and laughs. “Fine. We'll leave. Set me down.”  
He hasn't been carried like this since he was a little boy and hurt his ankle during training. It was the one time Uncle Vecon, who was in one of his rare good moods, called off the training due to the injury and carried him back to the cabin on his back.

“I don't know. Seems like it would be less hassle to just carry you around like this.” Din hoists him a little, making Corin automatically tighten his grip again and laugh.

“Down. Let me down.”

When Din does, Corin is almost a little disappointed, almost, but then Din turns around and reaches out to slide his hand behind Corin's neck and that makes everything fade away. He can see the bounty hunter is about to lean in but changes his mind, can feel his fingers loosening their grip on his neck, so Corin is the one to lean in and gently taps his forehead against the helmet.

Din's fingers tighten on his neck after that and they urge Corin to lean in again and this time Corin stays there, lingers, even closes his eyes, almost forgets all about the fact that they're in public and how easily this can be misunderstood.  
A Mandalorian shouldn't be friends with a former Storm Trooper. This will seriously damage Din's reputation.

Reluctantly pulling back, feeling a little breathless and flustered, Corin tries to smile. “We, uh, should grab the kid and flee before Paz sees you.”

For a moment it feels like Din is merely going to pull him close again, but then the moment is shattered by the sound of blaster being fired nearby. Corin recoils, flinches as he feels blood spatter across his face, hears a body falling, someone dying, bad luck, and he can't breathe.

Stumbling back a step, then another, wiping frantically at his face, Corin is dizzy with fear and doesn't realize that his hands comes away dry before several seconds has passed. He finally comprehends that there is no blood, no one is dead, it had only been the horrible memory of what had happened on Nevarro triggered by the unexpected sound of a blaster fired so close to him.

This is also when he becomes aware of Din's voice nearby, filled with distress: “No. No, no, he's a friend! Stop!”

Corin quickly realizes that everyone is staring either at the child, who has its little hand lifted into a tight fist with an angry look on its face, or on a Mandalorian in a dark armor who is squirming on the ground, clawing at his throat as he chokes.

Din picks up the child. “Stop!”

The child blinks and lowers its hand. On the ground, the Mandalorian takes a huge heaving gasp of air, coughing and writhing, and lying next to him is the blaster he had fired into the air just for fun.

Staring at the child, Corin suddenly remembers all the horrible stories he had heard about Darth Vader, the instinctive fear he'd felt upon seeing him, and the whispers about the Dark side of the Force that left strangled victims with dread forever burned into their lifeless eyes.

If the New Republic learns there is someone able to use the Dark side, it won't be just Moff Gideon and his war-lords out to get their hands on the child, at any cost.  
The New Republic will come after them with no mercy.

Force powers. Light or Dark, Corin doesn't care. Corin was raised to become a weapon. He will not allow anyone to do that to the little one. He will not allow anyone to harm it either.

No, he and Din will defend the child, at any cost.

This will be their way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Q&As and other stuff, you can check out [my Tumblr.](https://sulphuryasecretcloset.tumblr.com/) ^_^


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to say goodbye.  
> Corin works out.  
> And they stumble across a distress call...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no words that does this beauty justice, but I do hope everyone heads over to cac0daemonia's page and leaves countless kudos and comments! Look at Corin's gorgeous new 'do and the glory of the Keldabe kiss! <3 <3 <3
> 
> [](https://imgbb.com/)  
>   
> (And regarding this chapter, Corin explaining the Jedi and Sith is what he has been told by others, a mix of truth, rumors and pure propaganda, that he has tried to make sense out of on his own.)  
> 

“He didn't mean it!” Corin blurts out, quickly stepping over to stand by Din and the child. He sees far too many Mandalorians gathering nearby and keeping their t-visors fixated on the little one, while a handful of others are helping the still-coughing Mandalorian up on his feet. “He didn't mean it, okay? It was an accident.”

The child's ears droops low and it sinks down to peer over the collar of its clothing.

Corin's eyes scans the surroundings and his mind maps the location of every Mandalorian there, the weapons they have, the threat level, possible escape routes and dead ends.

A hand gently takes a hold of his shoulder. Din's voice says; “Corin, it's okay.”

Corin dares to take his gaze off the other Mandalorians for a second to throw his a nervous glance.

Din's helmet tips slightly in a reassuring nod. “It's okay. They're not going to hurt him.” His hand moves up to curl behind Corin's neck, giving it a light squeeze. His voice is quiet and soft. “We don't harm children, Corin. Ease down.”

The tension in his body morphs into a couple of hard shivers as Corin tries to will himself calm.

“That's it.” Din continues to speak in that soothing tone. “Ease down...”

Finally Corin is able to give him a reassuring nod of his own, and that is when Din shifts his attention over to the other Mandalorians. He says something in Mando'a.  
There is a brief silence, then most of the ones staring at the child repeat it and turn back to whatever they were doing before this happened. A few stare a little longer before doing the same.  
The Mandalorian who was choked is back on his feet, waving away the entire incident.

Corin blinks confused, not sure why nothing is happening, why there is no anger or attempts at retaliation, but Din merely nudges his shoulder.

“Come.” Din says. “Let's go inside and calm down. You and the kid both look like you could need it.”

Nodding, Corin holds his hands out in a silent plea and feels a wave of relief when Din hands over the child. Holding it close, running a hand over its head, placing his lips to the fuzzy hair, he blindly walks where Din directs him.

“I'm sorry.” Corin whispers to the child. He knows it only reacted to the fear he'd felt. If only Corin had been stronger, they wouldn't have ended up in this situation. “I know you only meant to protect me, even though its meant to be the other way around. I understand you just wanted to keep me safe, but... you can't do that. Never again. You can't let anyone see you do that. Okay?”  
The child glances up at him with a curious coo.  
Corin tries to smile. “Don't worry. It's going to be okay.” 

Once they are back in the safety of their room, Corin settles down on the floor with an assortment of the child's favorite toys.

Din sits down on his bunk and watches them for a while. “This magic. This Jetii magic. You know of it?”

Corin hesitates, hands the child a toy, then looks up at the bounty hunter. “They used to call it The Force. And, uh, we called them Jedi. Lord Vader used to be one of them.”

“Used to be?”

“He, uhm, I'm not sure how it works, but...” Corin doesn't like to think about this, it's like summoning bad luck, but he also doesn't want to hide information from Din. “From what I was told, there are two sides to the Force. Kind of like good and bad luck. Jedi and Sith. I think? Lord Vader became a Sith. Anyway, during the Emperor's rule, they hunted down and killed the Jedi. Now, with the New Republic in charge, with General Leia and Luke Skywalker both being Jedi, they won't take kindly to any Sith.”

Din shakes his head. “But this child is no Sith.”

“I know.” Corin says quietly, looking back at the child chewing happily on a toy. “But I also know that Darth Vader took great joy in choking people using the Force. If the New Republic hears about what happened here, they might not care to ask any questions before getting rid of a possible threat.” He knows his Empire wouldn't have hesitated to send out a kill order.

“He's a child!” Din snaps.

Corin shrugs. “According to history, Jedi would steal children who could use the Force from their parents.” He sighs and then looks up at Din again. “We just have to be careful. We already have bounty hunters and a war-lord after us. We don't need the New Republic aiming for us as well.”

There is a deadly threat in the words as Din leans slightly forward and says; “Let them try.”

-

They remain in the room for the rest of the evening, only Din leaving it briefly to bring them some food, and after the child has been tucked in; Corin and Din retreat to their separate bunks as well.

They are leaving the planet tomorrow. While the dread from the blaster-incident has faded, Corin still feels uneasy. There are so many thoughts and fears and memories swirling around in his head.  
Corin desperately tries to get comfortable on his bunk, hoping to sink into the oblivion of sleep. He twists and turns for a quite a while before he gives up and looks over at the shape on the other bunk. “You still awake?” He whispers, hoping not to wake the baby.

“What's wrong?” Din whispers back.

Corin hesitates, feeling stupid, then takes a deep breath. “Can I come over...? I can't sleep.”

It takes a couple of seconds before he answers, more than enough time for Corin to dread he just made a horrible mistake, then Din says, “Yeah. Sure.”

Grabbing his own blanket, Corin quickly shuffles over the floor and joins Din on his bunk as the other man moves over to give him room. He curls up on his side, facing the Mandalorian who is lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling judging by the direction of the t-visor.

“Usually you're out like a light. What's on your mind?” Din asks quietly.

For a moment Corin is surprised that Din has paid attention to his sleeping pattern, but quickly turns his focus on the question instead. “I don't know... I just, I can't stop thinking.” He moves a little closer and places his head on Din's shoulder. “It's stupid, I know.” He never used to worry outside of combat in the past. But Corin had no one but himself to lose in the past... 

“It's fine.” Din counters, no judgment in his voice whatsoever. “I told you to tell me when something hurts, remember? You did right. You did good.”

At first Corin is confused, other than a few bruises still complaining he can't really feel any physical pain, but then he realizes what Din means. The unease does feel like it hurts, it gnaws at him, deprives him of sleep, and he is yet again amazed by how accepting Din is of his weakness. No reprimand, no disappointment in his voice, no mockery, no punishment. Instead, he is allowed to stay here. With him.  
Swallowing back a ton of stupid words about to tumble out, Corin moves even closer and shifts to rest his head on Din's chest instead of his shoulder, finds himself listening to Din's heartbeat. It's fast, faster than Corin would have expected for someone about to fall asleep. Huh.

He then feels Din move and is about to pull back and apologize for intruding, this is far beyond what is allowed, even Corin knows that, but before he can move away; Din's arm moves around Corin's shoulders and holds him close.  
Corin feels and hears Din sigh, his chest rising and falling with the act. But it's not one of his usual sighs, not filled with resignation and weariness, no, this sounds different? Content?

Hesitating, yet emboldened by Din's touch, Corin carefully slides his hand over Din's stomach to wrap his own arm around the Mandalorian's waist. He half-expects an objection, because he must be misunderstanding this somehow, unless this is normal for Mandalorians and Din generously enough treats him like one, but no objection comes. It's allowed. It's beyond good luck...  
Corin is completely unaware of the smile on his face, but he does feel how his body slowly relaxes, finally, and how he is eventually carried off to sleep to the soothing song of Din's heart.

And maybe it is this feeling of acceptance, of belonging, that makes Corin reluctant to wake up the next day. When his mattress moves, jostling him slightly, Corin tightens his grip on it and grumbles annoyed. 

“Sorry, but I have to get up.” Din's voice says. “Otherwise, I think he probably _will_ try to eat us.”

Corin's eyes snap open. He realizes he's not sleeping next to the bounty hunter, no, he is basically clinging to Din, with face mashed against Din's chest and legs entangled with his. Mortified, Corin releases him like he just got thrown backwards by a violent explosion and he would have had a rather unpleasant meeting with the floor if not for the sharp reflexes of the Mandalorian.

Din's hand shoots out and grabs Corin's wrist just as he is about to go tumbling off the bunk.

Corin blinks, dazed and confused, not sure if he really is awake, but he doubts he'd be dreaming he's halfway off the bunk, only held up by his feet on the mattress and Din's grip on his arm.  
That, and then there is the child, who had joined them yet again, who is curled up safely in the embrace of Din's other arm and is currently watching him with a curious coo and a tilt of its head.

“You know I was joking about him eating us, right?” Din asks, but there is a touch of a laugh in his voice and he merely hoists Corin up into safety. “Well, partially joking. He gets mean when he's hungry, as you know.”

Corin exhales a nervous laugh. “Yeah. I know. Learned to watch my fingers while feeding him that way.” He pulls a hand through his hair, sweeping back the somewhat long locks the Mandalorian had refused to buzz away. “He reminds me a bit about you when you're hungry.”

Din's helmet turns abruptly. Corin doesn't need to see the man's face to know the offended expression and this time Corin's laugh rings true.  
“Next time, I'll let you fall on your ass.” Din grumbles.

Corin's heart does that weird back-flip thing again as he realizes something. “No.” He smiles a little. Another empty threat, like before. Din won't let a friend get hurt. “No, you won't.” Din will catch him every time.

Din merely looks at him for a moment, then he reaches out and slides his hand behind Corin's neck in a gentle request for him to lean in, a move now so natural that Corin doesn't hesitate to do it, and as the helmet gently rests against Corin's forehead, Din confirms; “No, I won't.”

The both glance over in puzzlement as the child squeals a happy sound and claps its little hands together.

-

It's strange. It's not like they've been living there long, but Corin still feels a slight melancholy when they have packed their few belongings and leave the room for good. The bunks were uncomfortable, he won't miss them. The shower room was lovely, he will miss that. But the room itself had become a sort of haven. A place to relax and breathe. He doubts there will be much of that once the Razor Crest sets off once again.

Corin is more than a little surprised to see a small group of people gathered by the Razor Crest to see them off. Raga, the twins, Cara, and even Paz, are standing there with Liita.

“Mando!” Cara greets. She and Din grasp forearms, then she glances over at Corin with a grin. “And your _friend_.” She aims to give Corin a 'friendly' punch in the shoulder, but Corin grabs her wrist just before impact and gives her a tight smile. The child, safely in the sling on his back, climbs up to peer over his shoulder at her.

Cara's smile widens and she uses her free hand to give Corin a 'friendly' slap to the jawline instead, startling him enough to make him release her, so she can turn her attention back to Din.  
Grabbing a hold of Din's breastplate, she yanks him closer. “Tell him.” And then shoves him away. 

Corin is reluctantly impressed by her reflexes and, well, the strength of even her 'friendly' taps, but he doesn't get to contemplate it further as Raga is suddenly grasping his jaw and is squeezing his face again. 

“Now, now, don't mark this pretty face.” Raga scolds mildly. 

Rolling his eyes, Corin is about to slap her hand away himself this time, but then she pulls him forward and gives him a gentle tap of her helmet against his forehead and he's too stunned to even straighten up, much less speak, even after she has released him and moved over to Din. “Here.” She pulls forward a large bag half-hidden behind her back. “She wanted you to have this.” 

Corin finally straightens when he sees Din open the bag and pull out a jetpack. He can see the slight tremble in Din's hand as he reaches out to touch different parts with open reverence.  
The sight makes Corin smile. It clearly means a lot for Din, which makes Corin happy. 

“Thank you.” Din says, his voice a little choked. “Tell her I will use it with honor.” 

Corin is so occupied with what is happening that he physically starts when Paz suddenly steps in front of him and he almost cowers before he remembers the rule of standing your ground near a Mandalorian. “What?” He snaps, ready to defend himself if Paz decides to lash out. 

“She wanted you to have this.” Paz says, holding out something that Corin has to look twice at, to really comprehend what he is seeing.  
Slowly reaching out and taking it, Corin turns it over in his hands, admiring the absolutely beautiful handwork and the amount of skill behind this Beskar breastplate. “Are you serious?” 

“We never joke about armor.” Paz replies, serious but not angry for once. “Beskar and armor, these are two very important things for a Mandalorian. Do you understand? These are not gifts we give away lightly.” 

Corin feels almost overwhelmed and holds the breastplate a little tighter. “I understand.” 

Paz looks at him for a moment then shakes his head. “I don't think you do. Not yet. Hopefully in time. For his sake.” His voice changes back to how Corin is used to hearing it when he turns his t-visor towards where Din is watching them warily. “Try to avoid getting this one killed, troublemaker.” 

Din is about to answer, probably something less than nice, when Corin sees him notice the breastplate and do a double-take. Corin's smile re-emerges and he struggles against the urge to preen.  
- _Modesty is the key to manners_ , his father's voice admonishes him.  
Corin clears his throat and looks up at Paz, trying to convey honesty instead. “Thank you.” 

Paz steps back, visibly uncomfortable. “Yeah, well, I'm not kissing you, so move on, _ad'ika_.” 

Now the twins step forward and one of them, Corin is embarrassed to admit he has no idea who is who as they are wearing identical armor with no trademarks to tell them apart, offers Corin a blaster. “You're going to need a real weapon.” 

“Thank you.” Corin takes the impressive blaster and feels the weight of it in his hand. It feels perfect. And Corin knows better than to decline a gift from a Mandalorian, knows it would be disrespectful, no matter how unworthy he feels of the gift. He looks from one twin to the other. “I mean that, thank you.” 

They merely nod, turn and head back to the Covert building. Paz salutes Din and Corin, then follows the twins, soon followed by Raga. Cara lingers a moment longer, delivering some final lines to Din, then she steps back, winks at Corin and saunters off towards the town.  
Only then does Corin dare to inch over to Din's side and they both suddenly realize that Liita has her bag by her side. 

“I thought you wanted to go home?” Corin asks, more than a little reluctant to part ways. 

Liita shrugs. “I think maybe I found it here. With them. They're good at weapons and armor, but they really need a proper mechanic.” She shifts her weight a little. “So, I've done all the upgrades this ship can handle. She should be good for a while. You might want to keep an eye some of those fuel-lines. They are the weakest link at the moment. Oh, and teach Corin how to weld properly and he might become a half-decent mechanic some day.” 

Din nods. “Thank you.” 

Liita clears her throat. “Yeah. Sure. So, listen,” she hands Din a small device, “this is a long distance signal. If you guys run into trouble, wherever you are, push the button and it'll let me know. That way I won't worry about letting you two out of my sight.” 

Corin can't help but to feel touched by her concern. “I'm going to miss you.” 

“No, you're not.” Liita says, looking back at the Covert building. “You'll be too busy making eyes at this one. As usual.” She absently points at Din without looking at him. “But I guess that means you two will be looking out for each other, and that's good.” Liita finally turns her attention back to them, ignoring the flustered Corin and the frozen Din, focusing on the child peering over Corin's shoulder. “And if not, the little one will take care of business. He's the only clever one among the three of you.” She hoists her bag, draws a deep breath, as if to steel herself, nods and looks at them in turn. “Goodbye.” 

Liita is already walking away by the time Corin and Din can conjure up any words, but when the Razor Crest takes off; she does stop and look back at the departing ship. 

\- 

Back among the darkness and starts, Corin gets up from his seat and moves over to stand next to the pilot seat, watching as Din plots in coordinates on the computer. “So... where to?” 

“There are a couple of planets and moons that should be of no interest to neither war-lords or bounty hunters. I say we check them out and decide on one of them to hide out on for a while. Let the kid settle down a little for once.” Din replies, bringing up a map on the screen and taps away. 

It sounds good to Corin. He turns to look at the child in question and smiles a little at the way its ears perks up when it realizes it has his attention. “Bored, kiddo?” Picking it up, smiling even more at the happy sound it makes, Corin places a quick raspberry on its head before leaning back to avoid the flailing claws accompanying the giggles. “Let's go check out your toys.” 

While it is nice to float in the dark silence again, lazily swinging in the hammock Liita had left behind in the cargo area, swapping out his old breastplate for his new, shiny one, Corin also discovers over the next couple of days that he kind of misses the more relaxed atmosphere at the Covert. It makes sense that one of them always have to be on watch, that Din is more quiet and focused, but he still misses it.  
He misses hearing the smile in Din's voice, the teasing bite to some of his comments and even sharing a room with him. (Corin falls asleep in his seat more than once rather than going below to rest.) He's not stupid enough to complain, but he misses it. 

Sitting in his seat, Corin wonders that if, with a little good luck, one of those places that Din mentioned turns out to be safe and they can actually stay for a while, then maybe they could... Could what? Corin discretely glances over at what he can see of Din in the pilot seat and feels his face heat up.  
They could do a little training again? Din could pin him down again? Corin could pin him? Maybe Din would touch his face again? And then Corin could... 

No, no, no. What is wrong with him? 

Corin gets up from his seat in such a hurry that both Din and the child sends him startled looks, but he ignores them and is halfway down the ladder before he mumbles an explanation; “I'm just gonna work out a little bit.” 

Corin does push ups, sit ups and pull ups until he can barely feel his arms, his stomach muscles ache and his legs wobble under him. When he's unable to continue, Corin flops back to lie sweaty and panting on the floor while the child peers down at him from the upper level. 

“I'm fine.” Corin lies. 

It's the next day when they receive the message. Corin is in the pilot seat when their communication system starts beeping and he automatically turns it on. Seconds after that, he's calling out for Din, even though the man is supposed to be resting. 

Seconds later, Din hovers next to the pilot seat where Corin is sitting and listens to the message, twice. 

Corin glances up at him. “Do you understand it?” Once again he finds himself missing his helmet, but this time to have the translator. 

“Yeah.” Din replies, his voice too quiet and serious. “It's a distress call. An emergency.” 

Corin looks back at the computer. “Oh.” He frowns. “Do we ignore it?” He doesn't like the idea of not helping, but he's also wary about entering a possibly dangerous situation with the child on board the ship. 

“I can't.” Din says, gesturing for Corin to give him the seat, which he does, and begins to tap in new information in to the computer. “It's Mando'a.” 

“Mando'a?” Corin echoes, now the one hovering next to the pilot seat. “Are there any Mandalorians out here? I thought they were all at the covert?” 

“I don't know.” Din takes a hold of the controls, turning the ship towards the closest planet. “And I can't think of a single one who would ask for help.” 

Corin nods and makes a thoughtful sound. Bad luck? “Time to get armed and ready then.” 

“That would be a good idea.” Din replies. 

\- 

It's not a desert planet, not overly warm, some good luck, but it is mostly mountains and grass so dry it might as well have been a desert. The Razor Crest lands in a small forest area, hoping to be hidden from curious eyes, not too far from the origin of the distress call. 

“Stay here with the kid while I check it out.” Din says, adjusting his blaster holster. 

Corin frowns, the softly warbling child on his left arm. “I should go.” If it is a trap, it is better they capture or kill him. Din is far more capable of protecting the child with his superior fighting skills. 

Din holsters his blaster, sighs, then turns to face him. “I'll be careful. But I need to know the kid is safe.” He reaches out his index finger which the child happily takes a hold of and then gently rubs his thumb over the back of the child's hand. 

“He's safer with you here.” Corin states. 

Gently freeing himself from the child's grasp, Din taps his finger against Corin's Beskar breastplate next. “You look good in this.” 

Instantly flustered, Corin has no idea how to respond to that and by the time his mind has recovered enough to form words, Din is already walking down the ramp and is gone not long after. 

So they close the door, move to the upper level and settle down to wait, Corin and the child. Silence reigns, only broken by the child's occasional cooing as it stands on the control board in the cockpit and stares longingly out at the world. 

“I know. We'll find some place safe where you can go outside and play.” Corin promises from where he's sitting in the pilot seat, keeping a wary eye on the outside as well. “Just not here. I'm sorry. It's too risky.” 

It's not long after that when there is a heavy thump as something lands on top of the Razor Crest and a shiver goes through the ship. The child glances over at Corin and makes a curious chirp, but Corin is already on his feet. He grabs the child and heads down into the cargo area. 

Placing the child in its little make-shift room, Corin places a finger to his own lips in a gesture for it to be silent. “I need you to stay here and be quiet. Can you do that for me? Please? Just this once.” 

The child tilts its head and coos quizzically. 

“I'll be right outside. Don't worry.” Corin leans back and places his hand on the button to close the door that would hide the child from prying eyes. “Stay here.” He pushes the button. 

Blaster drawn, body tense, Corin soon pushes the button that opens the cargo door and lowers the ramp. He breathes in deep, then warily takes one step after another, glancing around, until he's at the very end of the ramp, where he turns and shifts both gaze and aim of the blaster to the top of the ship where he'd heard the noise. 

Nothing.  
No sign of anything. 

That had to mean bad luck... 

Corin is no Death Trooper, but years and years of training has left him with some pretty good reflexes, which is why he's able to dodge the attack. He only sees movement, not what is attacking him, so Corin ducks and rolls away to get up on one knee and blaster aimed towards whatever it is. 

He gets a glimpse of something that looks like thick, reptilian hide before he's forced into ducking into another roll or get swatted away like a fly. 

This time, when he tries to get back up into a position to fire, there is an impact to his hands and the blaster is flung from his grip, but he's yet again able to roll away before it can do any real damage to him. However, this roll ends up taking him towards his attacker, and Corin ends up freezing mid-crouch, as he meant to get back up on his feet, and just stare stupidly at what is opponent. 

Massive, tan and yellow, the towering shape of a Hutt is smirking down at him. And as if the creature itself isn't unexpected enough, the Hutt is actually wearing armor on its torso. Its tail is held high to lash out yet again at Corin. 

A blaster shot comes from out of nowhere and bounces off the Hutt's armor, causing the creature to let out an angry bellow and Corin dives to safety just as the tail comes slamming down where he was just standing. 

\- 

Din emerges as his jetpack lowers him down between the trees, blaster drawn and aiming at the Hutt. He fires again, but the Hutt is fast for its size and uses both the Razor Crest and trees as cover. 

Corin is trying to scramble towards where he'd seen his blaster being thrown, but he's constantly driven back by the Hutt's tail.  
Din hovers nearby, continuing to fire at the massive shape. 

For a little while, it almost seems like they are deadlocked, but that changes when a large branch is suddenly thrown at Din's head. The Mandalorian quickly fires his blaster at it, ducking under the projectile at the same time, and that is why he isn't fast enough to dodge the second attack. 

Corin stares in disbelief as an entire tree comes flying at Din and slams into him, bringing him to the ground with it. He sees the Hutt come out of hiding, sliding its way towards where Din had fallen, so Corin starts a frantically search for his lost blaster.  
He feels a jab of triumph when he finds it. 

The Hutt is by the tree, its tail over the trunk and holding it down, when Corin steps out from his hiding spot and has a perfect aim at the Hutt's head. “Back away, or I will blast your ugly head off.” 

Slowly turning its head to look at him with its large eyes, the Hutt doesn't seem overly intimidated. It even smiles a little. It says something in Huttese. 

Corin tightens his grip on the blaster. “I never got any good at Huttese. Sorry. But I'm guessing you understand Basic. So, one last time; back away from him or I will start blasting.” 

“Master Mose says for you to lower your weapon or I will put an end to this little one before Master Mose crushes your Mandalorian like the insignificant creature he is.” A mechanical voice says. 

Corin is shocked to see an android standing on the ramp to the Razor Crest with the child in its grip and a blaster aiming at it. Ice cold dread fills his veins. This is exactly the kind of bad luck he was terrified of. 

The child makes an anxious whine, squirming uneasily. 

Looking over at the Hutt holding down the fallen tree, Corin can barely glimpse Beskar and sees it move but getting nowhere. Din is clearly trapped. There is no way Corin can take on the android and the Hutt and not risk either the child or Din getting hurt or worse...  
Sighing, Corin lowers his blaster. 

The Hutt holds out its hand and says something. 

“Master Mose says for you to bring him the blaster,” the android translates. 

With a final glare at the android, Corin walks over to the Hutt. He casts a quick glance at the tree, sees that Din is indeed caught under the trunk, his arms pinned down, growling curses, then Corin hands the blaster over to the Hutt. 

The Hutt takes the weapon, looks at it for a moment, then flings it away and its hand shoots out to grab Corin by the throat and lifts him up into the air to hold him there.  
Choking, Corin automatically claws at the hand that tightens even more and cuts of his air completely.  
It feels like the grip is about to crush his trachea. This is how bad luck intends for him to die? Corin feels the old dread; he doesn't want to die! 

He suddenly remembers a lecture from his time at the Academy.  
- _Most of the Hutts are fat, lazy creatures, but never forget they are incredibly strong. Some of the younger ones made quite fearsome soldiers once upon a time. Those tails can snap your spine and those arms will tear you apart._ His drill sergeant had warned them. 

The Hutt rambles on in Huttese, which Corin wouldn't understand even if he wasn't getting light-headed due to the lack of air. 

“Master Mose has a job for you, Mandalorian.” The android continues to translate in its monotone voice. “He hopes he doesn't have to kill your friend here to make you accept it?” 

“Kill him and you better kill me too.” Din snarls with raw fury. “Kill him and you better run, little snail. I will find you and you will beg for me to kill you.” 

The Hutt suddenly drops Corin, who falls to the ground coughing and wheezing for air, still clawing at his throat as it feels like the grip is still there. The Hutt laughs and says something, gesturing back at the android. 

“Master Mose says you are most entertaining, Mandalorian. But you shouldn't forget that he can also kill the child.” 

Corin rolls over on his side, coughing and still fighting for air. “What do you want?” He chokes out. He doesn't care what it takes, if it can keep the child safe he will do it. 

The Hutt grins, a thick dollop of drool sliding from the corner of its mouth. “I want you two to fetch something for me, _bukee._ ” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, you can cut the UST with a knife in this incredible piece by cac0daemonia! Such perfection!
> 
> [](https://imgbb.com/)  
>   
> Q&A and other stuff can be found on [my Tumblr.](https://sulphuryasecretcloset.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corin and Din have little choice but to agree to the Hutt's terms to get the child back.  
> The job turns out to be a lot more interesting than either of them bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very delayed chapter, my apologies. Life got in the way, unfortunately...  
> BUT, our deity cac0daemonia has blessed us with this GORGEOUS piece of the goodbye scene between our little Found Family and Liita!
> 
> [](https://imgbb.com/)  
>   
> 

Getting his knees under himself, Corin pushes himself up on trembling arms until he's able to sit, if hunched over, and continues to gulp for air. It feels like something is wrapped around his throat. He lifts his hands and gently covers the bruised skin to confirm there is nothing there.

The Hutt says something and the android translates.  
“Master Mose will let you up now, Mandalorian. There is information you need to fulfill your job.”

The Hutt lifts his tail and pushes the tree away from Din.

A massive burst of flames shoots towards the Hutt, who is saved by quick reflexes making him duck and lean away from the heat with an angry bellow.

“Refrain from violence.” The android speaks louder, but still in that damn monotone voice of his. “Or it will have consequences for the child and your friend.”

The fire dies out and Din stumbles to his feet, breathing hard and angrily.  
The Hutt straightens and grumbles annoyed in return.

Din hesitates for a second, his t-visor locked on the android, then he turns and stalks over to Corin and drops to his knees in front of him. “Are you okay?”

Corin nods, allowing Din to pull his hands away, tilt his chin up and examine Corin's throat with light yet firm touches. Seeming satisfied, Din cups the side of Corin's face with his hand for a brief moment, then gets up and turns to face the Hutt. “Talk.”

“Tomorrow,” the android says on behalf of the Hutt, “the New Republic will be moving cargo from their headquarters here on this planet to a secondary location. There will be three transport vehicles, armed guards and they will be moving at a high speed. We have scouted the route and found a brief window where it will be possible to break in and retrieve the package. We will provide speeder bikes. You will return with the package. Failure will result in termination of all.”

Corin gets up on unsteady feet, he would have fallen down again if not for Din quickly reaching out and grabbing his arm without even looking, to stand next to the Mandalorian and tries to reason with both the Hutt and the android. “You can't...” He rasps and has to painfully clear his throat to regain his voice. “You can't expect us to leave him with you?”  
Corin keeps his eyes on the child, who makes an unhappy sound and reaches its little arms out towards him. He's not even aware of taking an instinctive step forward before Din's grip on his arm tightens and prevents him from going further. A faint sound of distress emerges from Corin's throat.

“The child will be looked after according to protocol until your return.” The android says.

Only a brief twitch of Din's fingers on Corin's arm reveals the Mandalorian feeling the same amount of unease before he releases his grip and moves to open the vambrace to access the panel underneath. “What are the coordinates?”

The android lists up the route, the blind-spot and where the speeder bikes are located.  
The Hutt moves a little closer, eases itself up to tower over them, and says something that the android then translates.  
“It is of great importance that there is to be no damage to the cargo.”

“What you should worry about,” Din growls, “is if I come back and find one hair out of place on that child. If he has one single complaint about your treatment of him, anything at all, and I will not just kill you, death will be a relief after I'm done with you.”

The Hutt chortles, its body jiggling merrily along with the sound. _”Chess ko, Murishani._ His eyes suddenly narrow and the laugh disappears as quickly as it emerged. “Go. Bring back what I want and do not fail.”

Din takes a step away, tense and furious, but he has to physically pull him with him before Corin can make himself move. Corin just can't take his eyes off the child. 

“I'm sorry...” Corin whispers, automatically tugging against Din's grip pulling him away from the little one reaching out for him once more. “Please...”  
For a moment he can't understand why the child doesn't use its powers, but realizes he had told him not to. Corin's heart breaks even more. He'd failed to protect him. He'd taken away the child's only means of protecting itself.  
“No...” Corin objects weakly when Din makes him take yet another step away.

“We'll get him back. Tomorrow. He'll be back with us.” Din promises in a low voice. “Trust me.”

And Corin does. So even though it absolutely kills him inside, he lets Din lead him away.

They walk in silence until they reach where the speeder bikes are parked, then they ride in silence until its too dark to go on and they stop to rest until daylight. Corin sits as Din gathers wood and lights up a small camp fire.

-

“You okay?” Din asks quietly, reaching out and gently brushing the back of a gloved finger against Corin's bruised throat.

Corin nods, staring into the flames.

“Hey...” Din's hand moves down to rest on Corin's shoulder. “Talk to me? They're not going to hurt him. It's not in their interest. Whatever Mose wants, he wants it bad enough to trap a Mandalorian and no one is stupid enough to hurt a Mandalorian child and risk the wrath of the entire clan. Not even a Hutt. This is business to him.”

Corin swallows hard, feels the bruised tissue object and savors the pain he so richly deserves, before he slowly glances over at the bounty hunter next to him. “I just...” He shrugs, struggling to find the words, knowing it sounds stupid to say that this will be the longest he's been separated from the child since they saved Corin's life and it feels like there is a huge part of his soul missing along with the little one. “It's dark.” He ends up saying with a faint gesture, tries to smile and fails, shrugs again. “He doesn't like the dark. He gets scared sometimes...” Corin would either leave the door open or a light on for those nights. He doubts the android will think of that.

Din hesitates before answering. “He's a tough little one. He can handle it.” He shifts his hand up to cradle Corin's neck in a comforting gesture. “They will pay for this.” He gives his neck a gentle squeeze. “I promise. I will make them pay.”

“Yeah...” Corin doesn't doubt it for a second. He knows Din will have his vengeance. Still... Corin looks over at him. “But that won't mean a damn thing if we don't get him back.”

Din sighs and nods. “I know.” He leans a little closer. “I know, okay? But they won't hurt him. He's too valuable to them. And we _will_ get him back.”

Corin sinks forward and rests his head on the softness of Din's cloak between the pauldron and his neck. He closes his eyes at the feeling of Din's gloved fingers gently stroking at his nape.  
A long silence follows before Din breaks it.

“Tomorrow. I want you to stay with the speeder bikes while I go in alone.”

Corin snaps back into an upright sitting position, making Din's hand fall away. “What? No.”

The Mandalorian shakes his head. “Listen, there's already a bounty on you in the New Republic. We know it's fake, Cara knows it's fake, but they don't. If somebody recognizes you... It's too much of a risk.”

“And what about you?” Corin snaps, dangerously frustrated. This is just too much. “It's not like a Mandalorian is hard to identify. And you can't even take off your helmet to hide in a crowd. Don't even try making it sound like I'm the one most at risk here. You know I can fight. I used to be a Storm Trooper, remember? I'm coming with you to watch your back and get that cargo so we can get the kid back. Roger?”

Din actually exhales a faint laugh, weary but real. “Is that attitude I hear, soldier?”

Corin automatically deflates, realizing his tone and the words he'd used had been way out of line. “I'm... I'm sorry, I didn't...”

“No, no,” Din interrupts him, “I like it.” He huffs another laugh, bumping his pauldron lightly against his. “I'd like it better if you agreed to stay where it would be safe, but I hear you. Together, then.”

Relieved to the point of being dizzy over the lack of punishment at his outburst and that he will be allowed to join him, Corin manages as faint smile as well and then leans back in to rest against Din. 

“Try to get some rest.” Din says.

“I don't think I can.” Corin replies honestly, staring at the flames without lifting his head from Din.

“Sure you can.” Din counters gently, his gloved fingers returning to pet ever so lightly at his nape. “Close your eyes. And know that tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow things will be right again.” 

Corin closes his eyes, tries to relax and merely listens as Din begins to gently hum a soothing song...

-

The next day, they drive the speeder bikes to the max of their capacity and finally they reach their destination. It is a narrow path between two large mountains that will force the three vehicles to form a line. It's the perfect place.

Corin is crouched down on a small plateau, waiting, and Din is crouched down on a similar surface on the other side of the path. The speeder bikes are parked further up the path, ground level, ready for a quick escape after retrieving their target.  
Wearing his Storm Trooper, or Snow Trooper, helmet had never been an issue for Corin, with their air filters and lovely cooling system. Now, however, he has Din's cloak wrapped around his head, hiding everything except his eyes, and it is unbearably warm and hard to breathe through.  
Still, Corin keeps his gaze on the horizon and watches the approaching dust cloud that signals the three vehicles heading their way. Discomfort is a minor detail. They have cargo to retrieve, then a child to rescue.

No killing, they had agreed. A theft was bad enough, but killing New Republic soldiers? That would cause far more attention and they did not need that. 

It feels like a small eternity before the vehicles are in the correct position and when the time comes, Corin feels an old friend; fear, but he still doesn't hesitate to jump when Din does.

They land on top of the middle transport, the wind is tearing at them and the vehicle is shaking as it speeds over the uneven ground, making it a little too interesting as Din grabs a hold of the side and swings down to kick in the door. Corin grits his teeth as he crawls over the roof, takes a hold and swings down to follow him.

The entrance leads to a small hallway with one door to the left and one to the right. Din has already knocked out a guard by the time Corin lands behind him. The Mandalorian points towards the door to their right and gestures for him to follow. Corin nods and takes up position behind him, back to back, to keep an eye on the door on the opposite side.  
Din kicks the door open and just as it goes flying off its hinges, the door in front of Corin opens and two armed guards comes running towards him. He feels Din moving into the next room, his presence against Corin's back disappearing, but Corin merely darts forward and plants a fist into the face of the nearest guard.

The guard goes down on one knee, which leaves Corin free to move on to the next one, who just happens to be one massive giant of a human who has already drawn his weapon. The blaster goes off right next to Corin's ear, but only after he manages to get his hand under the barrel and directs the shot up at the roof instead of going through his head. Corin follows that up with two quick jabs to the face, driving the big man back a couple of steps, ducks under a counter-attack, then lands a third and final punch that finally topples the guard.

Corin gets a moment of triumph before an arm goes around his throat and he's yanked back into a choke-hold. His already bruised throat flares up with pain as he stumbles backwards and claws at the arm to free himself.  
There is a moment when he nearly panics, when he can't breathe, when the hurt makes him fear his throat is collapsing under the pressure and that he'll suffocate, but then his training and his anger kicks in. Gathering himself, he leans forward and then slams his head back against the face behind him.  
Yeah, okay, that hurts, but at least the arm disappears from around his throat and Corin is free to spin around and face the guard who is hunched over, covering his face with both hands, yammering with tears in his eyes. It's almost too easy to reach out and slam his head against the wall and watch him slump to the floor, clearly unconscious.

Corin coughs, rubs at his sore throat, then hurries after where Din went through the door, and nearly walks into his back as he's merely standing there, staring, with two more unconscious guards by his feet. Peering over Din's shoulder, Corin ends up staring as well.

-

In the middle of the room, secured by multiple chains, a lone figure stands up and turns to face them. The cargo isn't an 'it', the cargo is a 'she'.  
A yellow Twi'lek wearing a dark grey cloak that hides most of her from sight.

Din shakes his head. “ _Meg hut'uun_.” There is such contempt in his voice that Corin doesn't need to wonder what the words means. “If he thinks I'm bringing his slave back to him...”

“Who are you?” The Twi'lek places a hand on her hip and arches an eyebrow at him. “What are you...” She blinks after putting some pieces together. “Mose? Mose sent you?”

Corin feels his heart sinking. “Yeah. He sent us.” He steps up next to Din. “He's holding our, my, Din's, our, er, a child hostage, and made us come here to steal him some 'cargo'. We didn't know.” This certainly complicates things. As desperately as he wants the child back, Corin can't condemn an innocent Twi'lek to serve as Mose's slave. “We didn't know he meant a slave.”

The Twi'lek holds her hands out, showing her shackled wrists. “Just get me out of these. There's a whole bunch of soldiers in the other compartment. They probably heard that blaster shot and are preparing to barge in here, so we better move fast.”

Din glances over at Corin, who merely shrugs, then steps forward and quickly deals with the shackles. “Fine. Let's just get out of here. We'll talk after.”

While Din frees the Twi'lek, Corin moves back through the door and secures their escape route. He keeps a wary eye on both the other door and the unconscious guards, hoping good luck will be with them long enough for no more trouble to appear. He should have known better.

Din and the 'cargo' joins in him the hallway, and just as Corin jumps off the transport, he hears the Twi'lek cry out. Twisting mid-air, Corin gets a glimpse of her struggling to free herself from a guard, before he hits the ground and rolls until he comes to a dizzy halt. There is a brief second when a sharp pain shoots from his collarbone that he fears he just shattered it again, but when he scrambles up into a kneeling position and absently presses a hand to it; there is no break, it had been merely a warning. A stroke of good luck.

And before he can freak out too much about what is happening on board the vehicle, Din comes flying out and up, compliments of his jetpack, with the Twi'lek in his arms, and Din quickly sets course for Corin.  
Relief floods Corin and he exhales.  
Again, he really should have known better.

Several blaster shots, fired from within the vehicle, comes chasing after them and while Din manages to dodge most of them, one finds its mark.

Corin can't breathe as he sees the Mandalorian get knocked off course, go diving downwards and how he releases the Twi'lek seconds before he crashes hard, a mess of arms and legs and dust. By the time Din comes to a halt, Corin is already sprinting towards him. No, no, no!

Not pausing by the coughing and confused Twi'lek trying to get up on her feet, Corin merely scrambles over to where Din is lying, on his stomach, still not moving, and Corin's hands are trembling uncontrollably when he reaches out and turns the Mandalorian over on his back. “Din?” 

There is no answer. Corin quickly fumbles a hand between the shirt and the helmet, digs until he finds skin, then presses his fingers to the neck and he is sickening grateful to find a pulse there. Still alive. Corin forces himself to focus. A quick assessment reveals a pretty bad blaster wound to the side of Din's lower back, under the jetpack, one of the very few weak spots in the Mandalorian armor. Whoever had taken that shot was either very lucky or very good at their job.

“We got to go.” The Twi'lek's voice says from somewhere behind Corin. “They're stopping. We got to go before they shoot us too.”

“Din?” Corin shakes the man gently, but there is no response. The crash landing had knocked Din out cold. Not good. Corin glances up and sees the Twi'lek is right; the convoy is coming to a halt, probably aiming to unload the armed guards and unleash a world of hurt on them.  
Fear goes numb and training kicks in. Corin feels it like a switch being flipped inside his head.

Corin quickly unwraps the cloak from around his head and ties it around the man's waist to keep pressure on the wound before he hoists Din up over his shoulder, gets up on his feet, then turns to the Twi'lek and marches by her, towards where the speeder bikes are parked. “Come on. This way.”

-

He makes one more attempt to wake Din as they reach the speeder bikes, but in vain. The Mandalorian doesn't answer, doesn't react at all, so Corin decides not to waste time.  
“You know how to drive one, yes?” He asks the Twi'lek, who nods. “Good. Let's go.” 

As they speed away, Corin has a weird flashback to the time when they'd ridden across the desert on a dewback. Only this time, Corin's arm around Din's waist is to keep him from falling off and the man is merely slumped against him instead of tense with irritation over Tiem's nagging.

Another memory tries to emerge as well -A memory he had buried a long time ago, of a bleeding friend carried over his shoulder to the sound of war, the screaming grief when he discovered that it was too late, that bad luck had struck and Corin had failed- it takes everything Corin has to push it back into the dark corner of his mind again and he refuses to wonder if Din is still breathing.  
He can't lose him. Not him. It would kill Corin, even though he would have to go on to save the child, it would kill him inside. He would not recover from this loss. He knows it in his very core.

They ride for a long time, long enough that Corin hopes they have shaken any pursuers and to the limit of what he dares to leave Din's wound untreated for, but once they reach the small clearing by the rocks where he and Din had spent the previous night, Corin signals for the Twi'lek to follow him and drives over to park out of sight of anyone not looking for that particular clearing.

“Why are we stopping?” The Twi'lek asks as Corin gets off the bike and eases Din with him.

“Why do you think?” Corin snaps, moving Din over to where they'd been sitting the night before. “He's hurt.” He gently lowers him to the ground and starts unwrapping the cloak and pushing up his clothing to have a closer look at the wound. Wiping away blood, he barely realizes he's actually touching golden skin, too focused on the wound to care. It's bad, but not too bad. If they can get to the child... Corin will dismantle the android and skin the Hutt alive if they try to stop him.

Sighing, the Twi'lek walks over to them. “Listen, I'm sorry about your friend, but we don't have time for this. He's obviously not going to make it. We need to go. Now.”

“I'm not leaving him.” Corin states, making it damn clear it is not up for discussion, and the warning tone to his voice lets her know it would be wise not to try to push her point. He holds Din up in a sitting position and starts to wrap the cloak around his waist again, but now with extra and padded pressure on the wound. Corin tightens the knot and only then does he notice, as Din's head tilts forward, the thin trail of blood coming from under the helmet, sliding down the front of Din's throat.  
Oh no... Ice cold fear is sliding through Corin's veins like thick oil. A head injury? But he can't remove the helmet... And even if he could, this is the kind of injury that would require a medic, or bacta, or a child with the ability to heal with the Force. There is nothing Corin can do about this, except get him back to the Razor Crest and the child.

The Twi'lek crouches down next to them, smiling a little. “He's not just your friend, is he?”

“No.” Corin replies softly. “Him and that child... They're my everything.” Without them, there is no point to anything. He then lifts his blaster and aims right between her eyes. His voice now cold and flat. “So, tell me, what are you? You're no slave. Your clothing, your attitude, it's all wrong. And why would the New Republic move a mere slave, even a Hutt slave, in chains, surrounded by an entire squad of armed guards? Why is Mose so set on getting you back?”

The Twi'lek's slight smile blooms into a complete one. “Clever boy. So there is more to you than your looks, not bad. For a human.”

“Thanks.” Corin tightens his grip on the trigger a little. “Now, answer my question.”

“I was arrested after some pathetic New Republic patrol stopped my ship and decided to have a look at my cargo. They're trying to act all tough after the fall of the Empire, determined to show everyone that they can run things a lot better than the Imps.” The Twi'lek sits down with an annoyed sound. “Once they saw what I was carrying, they hauled me in and was going to throw me into a dark hole for the rest of my life.”

Corin frowns. “What were you carrying? Weapons?”

“No. Just a little something to make life seem a little less... shitty.” She winks at him.

It takes a couple of seconds, then Corin realizes what she means and scoffs with disbelief. “Spice. You're a spice runner.” It had been bad enough when they thought they'd be stealing some equipment from the New Republic, but now it turns out that they had in fact just hit a prison convoy and freed a criminal. “All of this, for a spice runner.” He shakes his head a little. Why always such bad luck? “Fine. The Hutt wants you back, he's getting you back. You just better hope he keeps his end of the deal or you'll be out of a job.” He holsters the blaster and tries to ignore the sight of Din's blood on his hands, wishing they'd never left the Covert.

-

They get back on their speeder bikes and continue their journey back towards the Razor Crest, where the Hutt and the child are waiting.

Corin insists on them making two stops on the way, checking up on Din and the wound. During the first stop, Din's condition remains unchanged. It's at the end of their second stop, when Corin slides his arm around Din's waist on the speeder bike to hold him close and preventing him from falling off as he starts the bike, that's when Corin finally hears a weak groan.  
“Din?” Corin feels a fierce stab of hope and his heart begins to race. “Din, you with me?”

Din groans again.

“You got hit. But you're going to be okay.” Corin talks fast, the words tumbling out eagerly. “We're on our way back to the child. The Twi'lek is here. She's not a slave, she's a damn spice runner, which means we can get the kid back and he can help you.”

A moment passes and just as Corin starts to wonder if he had just imagined Din waking up, the Mandalorian's helmet lifts a little and turns slightly to look at the Twi'lek. Though, the words spoken in a weak whisper are meant for Corin. “Gonna shoot... them...”

“And I'll hold your cloak while you do it, but first we got to patch you up. Okay? So you just hang on. Not too far to go now.” Corin tightens his arm around him a little. “How's your head?”

“I'm fine...” Din mumbles, managing to tip said head up and back to rest against Corin. “Just... dizzy.” His voice is faint, his body is still merely sagging against Corin, defenseless, everything pointing towards him being anything but fine. 

Blindly focusing on what needs to be done, Corin glances over at the Twi'lek. “Let's go.”

They set off again. This time they push on and don't stop until they reach their final destination.

The speeder bikes comes to halt in front of the Razor Crest just as the Hutt comes moving down the ramp. Corin instantly scouts for the android and relaxes just a tiny fraction when he sees the machine appearing at the top of the ramp, with the child in its grasp. From what Corin can see, the little one seems unharmed, not in any distress, and his heart clenches hard when he sees its ears perk up at the sight of them. It twists in the grip of the android with an eager coo.

“We brought you your 'cargo',” Corin states, remaining seated on the bike to support the lethargic Din, “so now you hand over the child and slither off.” He watches warily as the Twi'lek gets off the speeder bike to walk over to take the child from the android, hoisting it lightly in her arms and talking merrily to it while sauntering down the ramp.

Mose chuckles amused. “The Mando got taken out? Too bad. Damaged goods.” He slides a little closer then twists his tail around to reach out and place the tip under Corin's chin, lifting his face a little. “But with a face like this, we could probably get a lot of credits for you. There are _kung_ with a craving for delicate things out there, who are willing to pay for such a delivery.”

Corin's hand is sliding towards his blaster, unease heavy in his gut, not surprised but he does not like his odds, not with Din injured and the child as a hostage, when the Twi'lek suddenly reaches out and delivers a sounding slap to the back of the Hutt's head.  
“Shut up, Mose. We don't do business with slavers, you know that.” 

The Hutt yelps, withdraws his tail and rumbles annoyed but subdued. The child giggles amused.

Corin stares at the Twi'lek and then exhales as realization once again floods over him. It's obvious now. “You're not just a spice runner. You're his boss.”

The Twi'lek grins widely. “Definitely more than your looks. Yeah, I'm Zev'sonya Lee Lewna. I run this little gang.”

A blaster shot suddenly flies through the air, punches straight through the android's head, which collapses in a heap of dead metal and snarling electricity.

Everyone there slowly glances over at the guilty one and Din lowers his blaster before he slumps back against Corin again. Weak, in pain, but conscious. “Threaten the child again, touch it or Corin again, and I won't stop with shooting just a droid. _Eniki_?” His voice is weary, but determined. Even half-dead, a Mandalorian's anger was not to be ignored.

The Hutt snarls furiously, drawing itself up to its full height, but Zev'sonya raises her hand in a signal for him to stop. The smile never wavers on her face. “Fair enough.” She saunters over, hands Corin the happily warbling child without taking her eyes off Din's t-visor.

Corin hugs the child close with one arm, the other still safely around Din, and shuts his eyes shut tight with endless relief and delight, not minding the little claws digging into him as the child eagerly tries to hug him back. Suddenly he has hope again. The child is back with them, where it belongs, and Din will be okay now. It's the only kind of good luck Corin needs.

Zev'sonya keeps her focus on Din, still smiling. “Now that we're all friends, I have an offer for you, Mandalorian. I want to hire you for a job.” She winks at him. “And I have the credits to make it worth your while.”

Corin and Mose simultaneously start and declare in a perfect duet; “No.” 

The child tilts its head and coos curiously at them before turning its attention to Din as if it senses his pain. Its ears droops a little and it reaches out a tiny hand in an effort to touch his back.

Din sighs, then asks; “What's the job?”

“I want you to find somebody for me.”

“Who?”

“A former member of my crew. The guy who got me locked up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are still some questions left from the previous chapter regarding the trap and new ones regarding these new characters, I know, but most of them will (hopefully) be answered soon. ;)
> 
> For Q&As and other stuff, you can check out [my Tumblr.](https://sulphuryasecretcloset.tumblr.com/)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did somebody order fluff and thirst?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 30 000 hits, 100 works in the Corin tag, I have no words to express how happy I am. A HUGE thank you to every one of you.  
> AND a new blessing from the deity that is cac0daemonia, whom I hope everyone goes to leave kudos and comments at her account here on AO3 for her GORGEOUS works! <3 <3 <3
> 
> [](https://imgbb.com/)  
>   
> 

“Din, no.” Corin tightens his grip around the man's waist, trying to get his attention away from the clearly insane crime boss lady. “You're hurt. You need to rest, not accept jobs from spice runners.”

Din snorts a faint laugh, sounding something between exhausted and drunk. “Need the credits.”

“No.” Corin hugs him again, trying to will him into understanding, pointedly ignoring Zev'sonya watching them with a grin. “No, listen, we don't. We really don't. We have the kid back, that's all we need. Please.”

The child squirms and climbs up to peer over Din's shoulder, making the Mandalorian glance over and now there is no mistaking the soft affection in his voice. “Hey, Womp Rat. I told him you were a tough one. Don't hold it against him, he didn't see you take on that Mudhorn.” He tries to lift a hand, tries to reach up for the child, but he doesn't have the strength.

There is no doubt in Corin's mind that the little one now knows his father is injured, but Corin isn't too keen on letting Zev'sonya and Mose see the child's powers. “Let's get you inside the ship. Patch you up. Yeah? We're done with these two. We don't want to deal with them anymore.”  
The Hutt says something in Huttese and Corin has the unsettling feeling that he is agreeing with him. That is just wrong in more ways that Corin can count.

“Tell you what,” Zev'sonya says, walking over to them, “let us just get inside the ship, get away from this planet before these New Republic guards catch up with us and then you two can fight over whether or not to accept my generous offer or not.”

Corin wants to object, but Din cuts him off.  
“Fine. Ship, now. Let's go.” The Mandalorian tilts a little to the side as he clearly aims to try to get off the speeder bike.  
Sighing, Corin moves the child over on his arm, gets off the bike and helps Din stand.

They enter the Razor Crest. It's not easy getting Din up to the cockpit, especially as Corin insist on Zev'sonya remaining below and nowhere near the controls. When he can finally lower the Mandalorian into the pilot seat, Corin crouches down next to him with the squirming child on his arm. “How are you doing?” Ideally Din should be lying down, but Corin doesn't want him in the cargo area with those other two. And it would feel wrong to demote him from the pilot seat once Din was in the cockpit.

Din makes a non-committing sound, then reaches out and lightly touches Corin's bruised throat. “This looks bad. You okay?”

“I'm fine.” Corin replies automatically and helps the eager child up to perch on Din's knee.

“You help your dad, yeah?” He watches for a while as the little one reaches out a tiny hand towards the Mandalorian and squints in deep concentration, hears Din hiss softly as the blaster wound probably begins to close, but when the urge to take Din's hand, to offer words of comfort, becomes a little too strong, Corin straightens, keeps one hand on the child's back and leans over to push the buttons needed to warm up the ship's engine.  
They need to get away from here before the New Republic catches up with them and arrests them for breaking out a damn spice runner. Corin is fairly confident they won't be interested in hearing their defense and is reluctant to risk having to answer for those bogus crimes he's accused of again. He does not need that kind of bad luck.

When the child finally lowers its arm, a little unsteady after the strain, Din is the one who steadies it before running his hand gently over the child's head. “Thank you.”

“We need to get off this planet.” Corin says, knowing he's stating the obvious. “Should I...?”

“I can do it.” Din reassures him.

“Roger that.” Corin picks up the child, despite its weak protest, and places it in its crib on the seat. 

Take off is rather undramatic but it is only once they are back among the stars that Corin finally dares to relax a little when it comes to the New Republic and can truly start to worry about their two guests and Din's condition. “Din, are you serious about taking on this job from her? You need to rest. The kid needs to rest. We should dump Zev'sonya and her pet Hutt somewhere and find some place to lay low for a while, like we planned.”

“I know.” Din says. “But we need the credits. We need them for fuel, lodgings, for provisions... And hunting down bounties? It's what I'm good at. If she can pay as well as she claims, we wouldn't have to take on jobs for a while.”

Corin bites down on the urge to declare that Din is good at countless other things too. He moves over to pick up the drowsy child instead and sighs. “I'm going to bring him and check up on those two in the cargo hold, make sure they're not plotting some nefarious scheme to take over the ship and vent us into space or something. Meanwhile, I suggest you clean up. You got blood all over.”  
He's not worried. He's not, dammit.

-

Climbing down, Corin isn't quite sure what to expect, but he's not thrilled at what he sees.

Mose taking up most of the area is no surprise, the Hutt appearing uncomfortable on the hard floor where he is rolled over on his back and leaning against the wall is nice, but what makes Corin's hackles rise is the sight of Zev'sonya lounging in his (Fine, originally Liita's) hammock and swaying lazily over the Hutt's tail.

“Did you two lovers settle your little quarrel?” The Twi'lek asks with a delighted grin.

Corin starts, struck with some weird urge to cover the child's ears and places the little one on the floor to wander around in hopes of distracting it. “We're not, I don't know why you'd, why would you, that's not...” He clears his throat and forces the embarrassment away. “Me and him, it's not like that. We're-” What would be correct word? “-friends.” Corin ends lamely.

Zev'sonya snorts an impulsive laugh then blinks as she realizes he means it. “But you said... Oh.” The grin returns to her face. “My bad. I apologize.” She moves to dangle one leg off the hammock. 

Corin frowns as Mose shifts a little. “How can you work with him?”

Zev'sonya shrugs one shoulder. “Why wouldn't I?”

“Because he's a Hutt.” Corin says, gesturing to the creature as if she just hadn't noticed. 

Mose rumbles angrily, his massive body tensing up as if he's about to roll over on his belly again and be ready for a fight, but Zev'sonya lifts a calming hand while keeping her gaze on Corin. “He has worked for me for a very long time. He has no ties to the five families. And when things went bad, when my cowardly crew ran, he stuck around and roped in a Mandalorian to get me out.”

“He said he wanted to sell me to slavers.” Corin points out.

Zev'sonya rolls her eyes. “As you can see, he has a big mouth. He talks big. We've never had dealings with slavers. For obvious reasons.”

Corin turns his attention over at Mose. “Fine. Tell me, how did you know to send out that Mando'a distress call to trick us here?”

Mose smirks, the tip of his tongue poking out as he demonstratively wiggles to get a little more comfortable on the hard surface. “There is a big bounty out on a Mandalorian who ran off with an asset. A Mandalorian who travels in a Razor Crest. Not too many of those ships around here.”

Closing his eyes for a second, Corin exhales in quiet frustration over the bad luck trailing after him wherever Corin goes. He then scouts for the child and finds it standing next to Mose, too busy openly gawking up at the massive size of the Hutt to wander around.

“Are you a Mandalorian?” Zev'sonya asks.

Corin shakes his head, moving over to the staring child and picks it back up as he doesn't trust the Hutt not to roll over and accidentally squish him. “No. I'm just borrowing the armor. I... lost mine.”

“I've never heard of anyone allowed to borrow such an obscene amount of that precious metal of theirs.” Zev'sonya drawls, back to sounding amused. “You do know you're wearing a fortune, right? I know so many souls who would pay a lot of credits for your pieces.”

Corin glares over at her. “No.” The single word leaves absolutely no room for discussion.

Lifting her hands in a placating gesture, the Twi'lek then exchange a glance with Mose and they smirk over something unspoken they both find funny.

A little while later, the door to the cockpit opens and Din emerges to join them below. As he climbs down the ladder, Corin could almost believe the Mandalorian was restored, the blood is gone and he's only wearing an undershirt under the armor, but Corin knows him too well by now to be fooled. He can see the well-hidden signs of exhaustion in the way he moves. It takes a lot for Corin not to reach out a hand to support him as Din steps away from the ladder, but he knows the man wouldn't want him to expose his reduced state in front of their 'guests'.

“What's the plan, Mando?” Zev'sonya asks from her lazy position in the hammock.

Din looks at her, shifts his t-visor over at Mose for a second, even glances over at Corin and the child, before settling back on her. “I've plotted a course for a nearby planet. It's small and insignificant enough that we should be able to go unnoticed while we re-fuel and stock up on provisions. Your escape might raise a few eyebrows, but I doubt a spice runner is at the top of the New Republic's priority list these days.”

Zev'sonya grins. “Whatever you say, Mando. It's your ship, you're the boss.”

“And that's where you'll give me all the information you got on this job and we'll decide whether to accept it or not.”

Corin looks over at him with surprise before he can think to hide his reaction. 'We'? He wants Corin's opinion? Hadn't he already decided they were going to accept it? Clearly not, then. Huh.

And, wow, without his cloak and thick armor padding, Corin is suddenly realizing that Din's entire neck and throat is on display. And there is so much to see. Corin realizes he's staring, but he can't make himself stop. He notes the top of the scar from where he'd been forced to burn Din on the mud planet, the tantalizing dark stubble at the upper half of his throat and there is so much golden skin that he just _knows_ would feel so good to touch.

- _Focus!_ Corin scolds himself. - _What is wrong with you?_

The child makes a quizzical sound up at him.

Corin forces himself to smile. “It's nothing. I'm fine.”

-

They manage to reach their destination without any surprises, good luck is back, and Corin is relieved to hear they will be parting ways with Zev'sonya and Mose until the next day, even better luck. One thing is that their company makes Corin remain almost painfully vigilant against any threat from their side, but this also means that Din actually intends to get some rest and that is such a relief that no words could cover it.  
He can tell by the man's every movement, by his posture, just how tired Din is.

The Twi'lek and the Hutt are going to find their own accommodations and meet them by the ship the next day, which leaves Din, Corin and the child free to enter the small town and enter the inn there without drawing attention by bringing a Hutt along.

For once they are lucky enough to find an inn with plenty of rooms available. Corin is torn between some weird sense of disappointment and relief when they're offered no less than two separate rooms for the price of one. He is then stunned when Din dismisses it and wants a single room with two beds.

“Maybe...” Corin mumbles, reluctantly, “Maybe we should have separate rooms.”

Din looks over at him, but says nothing.

“It's just that...” Corin stumbles over his words to explain, feeling like he's being glared at. “You need to rest. It would be better for you, without the helmet...”

Din turns back to the innkeeper and confirms that he wants one room with two beds. 

It's a surprisingly nice room. Second floor, with a small balcony and a window with beautifully carved shutters to shut out both light and noise. The beds are sturdy, also carved out of tree, and placed on opposite sides of the room. There's even a small refresher room connected via a narrow door next to the bed Din sits heavily down on while Corin drops their bags to the floor.

The Mandalorian has the child in his arms, talking softly to it in Mando'a, while Corin gives the damaged leather armor he'd brought from the ship a critical look. It had taken the brunt of the blaster shot and turned what might have been a lethal shot into just a serious one, no doubt, but it definitely needs repairing. And washing, as it is still quite covered in blood. That and the cloak.“I'm going to get these cleaned. And some food.” Zev'sonya had handed Din some credits, claiming it was an advance while they all knew it was to bind the Mandalorian to his promise of showing up the next day instead of just abandoning them, Corin figures he might as well use them. “You want me to bring him?”

Din shakes his head, holding the child a little closer, seemingly half-asleep.

“Okay, I'll be back in a minute. Try to get some rest.” Corin orders, then slips out of the room.  
It doesn't take long to find a place to get the pieces cleaned without too many questions, hunting down decent food takes a little longer, so by the time he returns to the room; he's expecting to find Din asleep. Hell, even Corin is tired by now.

But of course Din never does what Corin expects him to do. If he had, he would have left Corin to die back when they had first met. So it really shouldn't be such a surprise to find the child playing with a piece of Beskar on the bed, while the Mandalorian is standing in the middle of the room, without his armor, just his regular clothes, the smell of soap in the air, adjusting the collar of his shirt. The sight somehow manages to knock the air from Corin's lungs. 

He just looks so... Corin can't find the words. Without his armor, the man appears vulnerable, showing an enormous amount of trust when he just glances over, sees that it is Corin and goes back to the shirt. But at the same time, the solid frame of his body, the relaxed muscles, shows how he's every bit as lethal without his armor to protect him.  
Corin remembers how strongly Din had reacted to his touch, then his lips, to his wrist. He wonders if Din's neck is even more sensitive.

As if he could hear his thoughts, or possibly wondering why Corin is just standing there like a statue, Din glances over at him.

Corin shoots his hand forward and holds out the package he brought. “Food. I mean, I brought you some food. I'll take him downstairs. You eat.” He stalks over, more or less shoves the package at Din before grabbing the child and fleeing the room.

-

When both he and the child have eaten their share, the child more than its share, and a sufficient time has passed, Corin heads back upstairs and knocks on the door. “It's me.”

“About time.” Is Din's reply.

Shuffling into the room, Corin is almost relieved to see that the Mandalorian has finally gone to bed. He places the child on the floor and smiles a little as it beelines towards Din, who doesn't hesitate to lift it up to share the bed with him. “I think he ate the body-weight of Mose.”

Din breathes a laugh, lying on his side and watching the little one getting comfortable next to him. “Maybe using his powers drains him?”

Corin nods thoughtfully. “I hadn't thought of that, but you're probably right.” He starts removing his armor, looking forward to stretching out on a bed. “Speaking of Hutts, you still want to do this job?”

There is a moment of silence, then Din sighs and starts to draw light fingers over the child's fuzzy hair. “Yes. As I said, if we do this, we will be set for a while. I was thinking maybe you and the kid could-”

“No.” Corin bites him off rather sharply, startled by his own tone, and quickly turns his focus back to unbuckling his armor. “If you're doing this, we're doing this. I may not like those two, but I trust you.”

“I know you trust me. That was never the question here.” Din says, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world to him. “I don't want to force you to do something you don't want to do. You're allowed to say no, Corin. Same as telling me when it hurts, I want you to say no when it is something you don't want to do.”

Frowning, hearing what he's saying but not understanding why Din would say something like that, Corin is abruptly annoyed at how tight his throat feels. He coughs, tugs a little harder at a buckle. “It's fine.” Corin doesn't want to counter Din's orders, the thought alone makes him tense up and unsettled, he just wants to go wherever Din goes. That's all he wants. “Let's just get some rest.”

The child makes an anxious sound, sitting up in the bed and is watching him with drooping ears.

Corin forces himself to smile, forces the unease away, and moves over to place a light kiss on top of its fuzzy head. “Stop worrying. Everything is fine.” He glances up at Din's t-visor to underline just how perfectly fine everything is, then turns to head back to his own bed.

A loud crack echoes through the room.

Corin starts and stares with disbelief at the bed; snapped into two pieces and sagging miserably.  
After a few stunned seconds, he looks back at the child and finds it watching him with smug satisfaction. “Did you just...?”

Din manages to radiate incredulity through his visor as he's also staring at the child, but he's the one who recovers first. “Huh.”

“Huh?” Corin echoes, then gestures towards the bed. “We're going to have to pay for a new one.”

Shrugging, Din seems awfully untroubled by the event. “Yeah. Looks like.”

Corin stutters out a mess of what is probably just consonants, unable to form words to express how unacceptable it was to break the beds of people looking forward to getting some rest.

Din actually has the nerve to snort a laugh at his flustered reaction, which only makes it worse, then he shuts him up completely by pulling the covers a little to the side. “Come on.”

Corin blinks. “What?”

“You can't sleep on that. And I think if you try to drag the mattress to the floor, he might set fire to it. So...” Din has the audacity to give the sheets next to him and the child a couple of teasing pats to encourage him closer and Corin can _swear_ he can sense the man is wearing an almost evil grin.

Face burning, Corin shuffles over and climbs into the bed with them, pretending not to hear the happy sound the child makes. “You're teaching him bad manners.” 

“I think he's doing just fine.” Din counters, his voice unexpectedly soft, adjusting the sheets to cover both Corin and the child between them, which is kind of nice.

Corin feels the child's tiny fingers go around his index finger in a possessive grip and he can't help but smiling as his heart melts and any thought of admonishing speeches vanishes.  
Who needs two beds anyway?

-

The lazy bliss lasts until early, really early, next morning when Corin is partially torn from slumber by the child climbing over him while he's lying on his side, facing Din, and it is using its sharp little claws. He shifts away from the pain, especially when the child slides down his back and uses aforementioned claws to break the speed of its decent, and he only faintly registers the triumphant chirp it makes once it is on the floor and starts yanking toys out of one of the bags. Corin is far too distracted by the fact that he's shifted too close to Din in his stupid effort to shy away from the child's claws and the contact caused the Mandalorian to reach out in his sleep and place his hand on Corin's lower back, now urging him even closer.

In that moment, Corin goes from half-asleep to fully awake and alert, which is why he has absolutely no explanation as to why his body moves as it is directed by Din's touch. He can only drown in the onslaught of sensations in the seconds that follow.

While there is no bare skin touching, Corin can feel every inch from where his legs are touching Din's to where their chests meet, just how warm Din is. How real and tempting and...  
Corin's eyes flicker up and he finds himself staring at Din's neck again, so very close and inviting. He feels the Mandalorian's fingers curl on his lower back, dragging up his shirt a little to give his skin a brush of gloved fingers, and Corin shivers at the feeling of _want_ spreading in his veins. His entire body comes alive, drawn to the other man like a magnet, hungry and eager.

He forgets to breathe, can't think, merely acts, and only snaps out of it when he realizes that he's leaning up to finally place his lips to the vulnerable skin on Din's throat. Wait! What is he doing?

Corin rolls away, breaking free from Din's light touch, and stumbles across the room until he reaches the refresher room. Once inside, he leans heavily back against the door to close it, breathes for a while, then sinks down to sit resting against it. 

Oh, this is bad. This is really bad. If Din found out, he'd either ditch Corin some place he deemed safe or things would be really awkward. He isn't sure which is worse.  
But Corin can control this want. This will not happen again!

Yet, when he eventually emerges from the refresher room, he finds Din sitting on the floor, playing with the child, and Corin's heart clenches hard at the sight and he's painfully reminded that this goes far beyond mere lust. 

- _Shut it down, soldier._ Corin repeats in a harsh order, refusing himself to feel sad, putting on a smile. - _Be grateful that you're allowed to have this. Don't get greedy. Don't tempt bad luck._

Din pays for the damage done to the room and they do a few stops at the small marked in town, including picking up Din's now clean and repaired leather armor and cloak, before heading back to the Razor Crest. It's indeed a good thing that Zev'sonya had paid them an advance.

Corin is a little disappointed to see her and Mose already waiting there. He'd secretly hoped they'd changed their minds and taken off during the night.  
“Boys!” Zev'sonya greets them with a wide smile. “Ready for your next great bounty hunting adventure?” The child peeks over Corin's shoulder to stare at Mose again, who merely grumbles annoyed and crosses his arms to underline just how unhappy he is about this as well.

Din comes to a halt in front of them, resting his weight on one hip and placing his hands on his belt. “Tell me about the job.”

Turns out that one of Zev'sonya's crew had decided that accepting money from the New Republic was a lot more tempting than following her orders, especially as she had confiscated part of his pay after he'd fallen asleep on the job. He'd tipped a patrol ship on their next run and Zev'sonya got locked up while he got paid and given his freedom. It had been pure luck that Mose and his droid had been on a different job. The others? They had scattered to all corners of the galaxy, the cowards.

“His name is Veyn. And if you can get your ship near a trading post and let me use your com system, I can find his exact location. All you need to do is go after him and bring him back to me.” Zev'sonya shrugs. “Or disintegrate him. Whatever works best for you.” She smiles a little and mentions a sum of credits that even has Mose sending her a startled look.

Din glances over at Corin, who merely shrugs. Whatever Din decides, Corin will make it happen.

“Fine.” The Mandalorian eventually sighs and steps over to open the cargo door to the Razor Crest. “Let's go.”

They all turn and head inside, but just as Corin is about to pass by Zev'sonya and follow Din up to the cockpit, she halts him with a single finger to his shoulder and he sends her a suspicious glare.

“You don't speak Huttese, right?” She says, her voice so light and friendly that it makes Corin even more suspicious.

“And?” Corin replies in an icy tone. “I don't plan on teaming up with one any time soon.”

“No. No, I don't think you'll need to, with your... friend by your side.” Zev'sonya pulls something out from a large pocket, a datapad of sorts. “Still, just in case, here. A present.”

Corin is reluctant to accept it. “What is it?”

“It's a translator.” She doesn't seem offended by his wariness. “It'll help you learn languages. Including Huttese. Might be handy if you're going to tour the galaxy.” Zev'sonya leans in a little closer. “It even has Mando'a.”

Starting, Corin isn't aware of reaching out before he's already taken the translator from her. “I, uh, I suppose it couldn't hurt to learn more languages. Like you said, might be handy during our travels.”

Zev'sonya winks at him. “I'm sure you will find it very useful.” And saunters over to climb back into the hammock again, saying something to Mose in Huttese that doesn't seem to appease the sulking Hutt at all.

-

Placing the child in its designated seat, Corin is quick to settle in his own and start up the translator before the Razor Crest is even fully operational. Din even has to ask him twice if everything is okay for take-off.  
Like Zev'sonya had claimed, there is indeed a section for Mando'a on the datapad. There is an introduction to the language, how it is built up, the history behind it. Good luck has delivered a treasure to his hands. 

They fly in silence for a long time, but after the child has escaped its crib twice and come marching across the control panel without Corin even reacting to it, Din ends up capturing it in his embrace and turns his seat to look back at him without Corin even noticing.

“Okay.” Din says. “I'll bite. What are you reading that is so damn interesting?”

“Hmm?” Corin scrolls down on the page, watching the words go by.

“I said,” Din stretches his leg out and kicks lightly at Corin's boot, “what are you reading?”

“Oh.” Corin quickly scrolls back up again, squints, and tries; “Su... Su sygar?”

Din physically starts as if Corin just slapped him in the face, through the helmet. “What?”

“Su... sy gar...?” Corin ties again, then huffs and looks up at him. “I never could get pronunciation right. That's why I've always hated language classes.” He stares down at the screen again, frowning as he feels stubborn determination rising within. “But I'll get this right. I promise.”

“That's... Where did you get that?” Din asks, sounding unsettled.

“Zev'sonya. She gave it to me.” Corin replies, mouthing the Mando'a word to himself a couple of times before speaking it out loud yet again. “Su suy... sygar...” A simple greeting, yet so hard.

“It's 'Su cuy'gar',” Din corrects tightly before turning back to the controls again.

“Su cuy'gar,” Corin echoes, repeating it a couple of times, trying to memorize it. He scrolls down the word list and suddenly remembers something. “Hey, what did Raga call me back then? Kar-something?” He searches but without the word in its entirety, it's just about impossible to translate. 

“Can't remember.” Din sounds like he's gritting his teeth.

Corin goes through several words, tries to find some of the easier and most commonly used ones, but he's struggling with the pronunciation and only gets the occasional help from an uncharacteristically silent Din. “Hey, Din, say something in Mando'a and I'll translate it and you can tell me if I'm right.”

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.” Din snaps, the words darting out like blaster shot.

“Wait, not so fast, say it again...” Corin starts searching on his translator. “Slower. Nee-what?”

“Nevermind.” Din sighs, moving over to place the child back in the crib before returning to his seat.

“No, I can do this. I can learn.” Corin insists, determined.

Din exhales what sound like a frustrated hiss. “Why?”

Swallowing hard, Corin lowers the datapad, suddenly realizing that maybe he should have asked for permission. Maybe everyone is not allowed to learn Mando'a? Or maybe Din just didn't want _him_ to learn Mando'a? “I... I know I'm not good at languages, but this is your language. I just wanted to learn your language. It's beautiful.”

Din abruptly turns his seat to face him, leans over and reaches out to place his hand behind Corin's neck to pull him forward with determination until their foreheads gently meet and holds him there.  
Wide-eyed and confused, Corin barely dares to breathe. Din's voice had sounded close to angry, but this gesture is anything but. It's fierce, there is a lot of barely restrained emotion behind this, but it's not anger. If Corin didn't know better, he'd say it feels like...

“Aliit ori'shya tal'din.” Din mumbles.

“What?” Corin asks, his heart pounding for no reason.

Din straightens and turns back around to face the controls. “Aliit ori'shya tal'din.”

Corin lifts the datapad, a little annoyed to see that his hand is trembling, and begins to search for the words. One by one, Din repeats them until Corin can read the translation.

- _Family is more than blood._

Corin has no words to follow that, in any language, merely stares at the screen. None of his fellow Storm Troopers would ever consider each other family. He looks over as he feels a light tug on his leg and finds the child standing there, staring up at him, holding a familiar drawing up for him to see.

Din glances back at them over his shoulder, ever so briefly, before turning away again. “You should put that up on the wall by the door there.”

Lifting the child up, Corin has to try twice before he can find his voice again. “You sure?”

Din nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Q&As and other stuff, check out [my Tumblr.](https://sulphuryasecretcloset.tumblr.com/)


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby Yoda will not be ignored.  
> Din is struggling.  
> Corin is jealous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life continues to get in my way, but I bring a longer chapter and I do try to use every spare moment to write and answer comments so please forgive me if it takes a little longer to get replies these days.  
> Luckily we are still blessed with cac0daemonia's incredible talent and they have graced us with more GORGEOUS art that brings tears of joy to my eyes and most certainly inspires me to keep writing! Look at the art and weep with joy as I did! <3 <3
> 
> [](https://imgbb.com/)  
>   
> 

They set course for one the closest trading posts. It is on a small planet where the focus is mostly on trade and not intergalactic politics, so Din decides it would be a low risk choice and the most sensible one.

Corin is too busy with his translator to really pay attention, leaving the decision making to Din and Zev'sonya. He only absently notices her leaving the cockpit, banished below again, constantly scrolling through the Mando'a words on the datapad. What was it Paz had called him when they were leaving? Attica? No. That's not it... Why can't he remember?

A complaining sound breaks through his haze and Corin glances over to see the child standing in its crib, ears drooping and a forlorn look on its face. A stab of guilt hits Corin and he lowers the translator for long enough to move over and pick up the child.  
“Sorry...” He puts together a large cup with cold water with some of those berries the child likes so much for a treat. “There are just some things I need to look up on this. Okay? Okay.”

Sitting back down, child in the embrace of his left arm, Corin uses his right hand to pick up the translator again and reads through the words with a faint smile at the content sound the child makes as it begins to sip on the water in an effort to catch some of those berries.  
So, not attica, but definitely something similar. Corin balances the child and with some effort manages to reach around it and scroll down a little.

The child makes a quizzical sound, but before Corin can glance over to see what it wants, he suddenly sees what he has been looking for; ad'ika. With a jolt of excitement, he quickly looks over at the translation and he's not really surprised. 'Child, boy, daughter, an affectionate phrase for a kid.' Not surprised, no, but he's definitely going to find some Mando'a word for idiot and throw it back at Paz' helmet the next time they meet. That should startle the other man. Hah.

The child makes the quizzical sound again.

“Yeah, just...” Corin mumbles, scrolling down again, finding no lack of insults. Nice. “I just got to...” 

Lost in his hunt, he fails to see the child's eyes narrowing. He also fails to see it moving the cup over, placing the lip of it to the top of his Beskar breastplate, but he definitely feels it when the child promptly tips it and ice cold water, as well as the occasional berry, suddenly flows down his chest, inside the armor.

Corin almost flings the datapad away, automatically hugs the child closer, makes a high-pitched yelp and flails back in his chair in an instinctive but futile attempt to shy away from the cold.

Din spins around the pilot seat, blaster drawn, ready to defeat whatever space eldritch had appeared and attacked Corin behind his back. When he sees no such thing, he quickly lowers the blaster and exhales sharply.

Corin is already up on his feet, child in one arm and datapad in the hand of the other, and feels the water seep into the lining of his pants as well, “Great...” He places the datapad on the seat and steps forward to hand the unapologetic child over to Din. “Here. Hold your son.”

Automatically accepting the child, the Mandalorian lets out an amused huff. “Oh, he's just mine now?”

Corin nods, unclasping the breastplate. “Right now? Yes.” He pulls off the breastplate, places it gently on the seat as well, before starting on removing the pauldrons and vambraces as well.

The child glances up at Din and makes a cheerful chirp, pointing at Corin.

“What...” Din's voice sounds strange. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I'm doing?” Corin replies, soon wringing off his soaked shirt and undershirt. “He spilled his entire drink on me.” He pauses to send the smirking child a strict look, even lifts the hand holding his drenched clothing to point a finger at it. “And I know you did that on purpose. We're going to have a talk about that, _ad'ika_. Not acceptable, you hear?” He sees the child smiling at him and his resolve wavers so he shifts his attention from the child to Din's t-visor. “Did I pronounce it right?”

Din makes some odd noise, which kind of sounds like 'yes'.

Satisfied, Corin lets his shirts drop to the floor next to his seat, grateful he has dry back-up clothing in his bag, hopes he can get this cleaned on the planet, then he starts to undo his belt to get rid of the pants as well as they are quite wet at the lining.

There is a weird metallic _clang_ and Corin glances over just in time to see that Din has spun his seat back around to face the front so fast that he accidentally slammed the cuisses on his left thigh against the lower edge of the control panel. “Something wrong?” Corin asks. Had bad luck made itself known?

Din clears his throat, weirdly enough rubbing at his wrist instead of the thigh he had bumped against edge of the control panel. “No. No-no, everything is, it's... fine.”

The child giggles for some reason.  
Din sighs.  
Corin changes into dry clothes, wondering if he needs to sneak a peek at that wrist of Din's as the man appears to have some trouble with it.

-

After that, Corin decides to save his studies for when the child is either asleep or busy playing with Din, just to avoid more unpleasant surprises. And he does feel guilty for getting caught up in it.

Once they are close enough to the planet, Zev'sonya is brought up to the cockpit again and she sends out a signal to one of her associates. Of course, things are never easy, Corin knows this, so he is not surprised when she informs them that the contact insists on them meeting in person on the planet.  
Din hesitates, clearly wary of a trap, but Zev'sonya snorts with contempt.

“He's not very smart. He's just hoping to squeeze some credits out of me for the information. That alone should tell you how stupid he is. Land the ship, Mando.”

Din hesitates again, then sighs and reaches out to put in new coordinates in the computer. “If there is fighting, that means it will cost you extra. _Bargon?_ ”

“There won't be any fighting,” the Twi'lek winks at Corin, “but it's not fun if it's not a little rough, eh?”

Corin gets the distinct notion that she is not talking about fighting and he awkwardly slides his gaze away, pretending to watch the planet they are approaching. He can hear her laughing as she goes back below to join Mose yet again. Yeah, definitely crazy, that one. Bound to draw bad luck.

When they land, Corin considers staying behind on the ship with the child and let Din head out alone with Zev'sonya and Mose to meet up with her contact, but the child seems so eager to be let outside again and it gives him the excuse he needs to trail along to watch Din's back.

“You stay in the back.” Din mutters as they gear up before heading down into the cargo area.

Corin nods, knowing his responsibility is to keep the child safe and having no problem with that. He is just going keep Din safe as well. “Roger that.”

The planet is warm, but not unbearably so. There is a constant layer of dust in the air that gives the daylight a yellow tint which colors everything in a slight sepia tone. The souls who lives there seems quite determined to keep to their own business and few glances are sent their way as they head towards the building where Zev'sonya says their contact will be waiting for them. Corin half-expected a Hutt to draw a bit of attention, but no one seem to react to Mose's presence and that makes him more than a little wary concerning which kind of clientele belongs to this place.  
Zev'sonya and Din take lead, Corin trails behind them with the child in the sling on his back, and Mose slithers along at the very back while trying to ignore the little one still ogling him.

The city is quiet, too quiet, but maybe that is normal when so many there are involved in illegal activities?

“This way.” Zev'sonya says, leading them to a really decrepit looking building and doesn't wait before she walks through the door and disappears inside. Din follows.

Corin follows as well, and nearly walks into Din's back as he has frozen a few steps inside and is staring at the rather large crowd of at least twenty souls there. This is clearly a dining and drinking place, there are tables and chairs everywhere, a tall bar counter, all different kind of species sitting and standing around, most of them now staring at the newly arrived ones with open hostility.  
Bad luck. Corin had called it!

Zev'sonya is standing next to Din, grinning at the glares, while the Mandalorian is slowly reaching for his blaster. “I thought you said there would be no fighting?” Din mutters.

Zev'sonya snorts a laugh. “And it won't be.”

Corin is too focused on the crowd to notice him approaching, but suddenly Mose is by his side and reaching out towards Din. He grabs a hold of the top of the jetpack and hoists the Mandalorian up into the air. There is a faint, startled sound from Din, but before he or Corin can really do much about the situation, he is unceremoniously moved out of the way, placed to sit on top of the bar counter like a naughty Jawa, while the Hutt slithers by to face the crowd himself.

The whole situation is unreal. Corin is having trouble keeping up. And it doesn't get any better when he sees the Hutt lean back a little, like a snake preparing to strike, before he jolts forward and plows through whomever and whatever is in his way with his surprising speed. Whatever his massive bulk doesn't send flying, his tail soon takes care of with whip-like strikes.

Arms crossed, leaning her shoulder against the wall, Zev'sonya watches the mayhem with a smile.

Corin absently hoists the child out of the sling and holds it protectively against his chest, one hand on top of its head and preventing it from watching the brawl. Well, it is kind of wrong to call it a brawl. A brawl would implicate that both sides stands a fighting chance. Here Mose merely swats them away like bugs. A Rodian manages to fire a blaster shot, but it simply bounces off the armor.

Even Din merely remains sitting on the counter and watches as the final smuggler goes flying through the air and ends up in a groaning heap on the floor.

That's when Zev'sonya moves away from the wall with a satisfied sigh, grabs what looks to have been the leg of a chair and with an impressive swing; knocks out a Zabrak trying to sit up. “That should get us his attention. Thanks, Mose.”

The Hutt barely shrugs, already busy reaching for a now abandoned plate on one of the few tables still standing and quickly tips most of the plate's content into his huge mouth, chewing noisily.

Corin shudders with disgust and takes even more care for the child not to observe the Hutt's manners and get any ideas.

-  


They wait. Corin holds on to the child, not allowing down to explore despite its clear wishes to do so as there is far too much unidentified debris there, and Din stands hovering next to them with one hand on the blaster. Mose continues to eat whatever he can find, on and off plates. Zev'sonya whistles and does batting practice on cups and whatever she can get her hands on.

It doesn't take too long before the door opens and a group of three Iktochi enter. The one in the middle sets his eyes on Zev'sonya with familiar irritation. “Was that really necessary?”

She grins. “Maybe not. But it was fun.” Any mirth suddenly disappears from her eyes and the change is strangely terrifying. Her voice is cold as a Hoth night and she points the bat at the Iktochi. “Now tell me where he is.”

The leader Iktochi steps over an unconscious heap of something and sighs as he enters the remains of the dining area, where Mose is chewing and watching him with a touch of wariness. “I have your information. Relax, Zev. But he won't be there until tomorrow.” He waves a hand impatiently back at his men. “Get someone to clean up this mess.” They bow and disappear out the door.

Zev'sonya rests the chair-leg back against her shoulder and steps closer to the Iktochi. “You know patience isn't my strongest side.”

Patience and sanity, would be Corin's guess. He leans a little closer to Din, asking quietly. “Should we leave?” Why tempt bad luck?

Din appears to consider it, then shakes his head. 

Zev'sonya and her informant have a quiet but heated discussion. When that ends, the Ikotchi wanders behind the bar and starts helping himself to the bottles there, while Zev'sonya walks over to Din and Corin with the usual smile. “We're stuck here until tomorrow, guys. Sorry. But food and lodging is on my friend. The rooms are right upstairs, ready for us, so, kick back and relax. Let us enjoy our last night together.”

To Corin's dismay, she has the audacity to place her hand daintily on Din's breastplate and send the Mandalorian a suggestive wink before walking back to her informant. Trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in his chest, Corin shifts his focus to the child in his arms instead, only to find it staring at the Hutt yet again. Seriously? Clearly Corin is the only one NOT smitten by these crazy spice runners...

A cleaning crew arrives, something tells Corin it is not the first time this place has been trashed, probably won't be the last either, but after some work it looks like any other shady eating place, one that could need some more furniture. The biggest surprise, though, is the food they are then served, it actually tastes good. Really good. Normally this would have been reason to praise good luck...

Too bad Corin's appetite is close to non-existing. He's not sure why, but instead of inhaling the food like he usually does, he finds himself constantly glancing over at where Zev'sonya is basically hanging on Din's shoulder. When he sees her walk two fingers up Din's breastplate, Corin shoves his plate over to the child and lets it eat his portion too as his hunger disappears entirely.

This is stupid. It makes NO sense. Corin doesn't get why he feels like punching something, someone, or why he's clenching his jaw so hard it hurts. He's never felt this before. Must be tired.

He considers grabbing the child and heading upstairs to their room, it's getting late and the child will probably be getting sleepy soon, but he remains seated and tells himself there is no reason why he shouldn't. He just needs to get a grip. Stop acting weird. Everything is fine.  
The child makes a trilling sound. Corin looks down to find it staring with awe at him clutching his fork so hard he just bent the handle. He releases the fork immediately, clears his throat and leans back in his chair. It's fine. He's fine. He just needs to...

Zev'sonya places her hands against Din's pauldrons, shoves him down on a chair and with a smoothness worthy of envy, she straddles him and wiggles to get comfortable.

For a moment, Corin feels a stab of glee. He sees Din's body language radiate discomfort, sees the Mandalorian's hands come up to take a hold of her hips, and Corin knows the Twi'lek is about to go flying. But then she leans down, her face hidden behind Din's helmet, and just as Din's fingers takes a hold of her hips, Corin sees the digits twitch, grab a hold and then... just relax and linger there.  
Zev'sonya sits up again, grinning victorious, while Din merely leans back and his t-visor moves up to look at her. His shoulders even eases down a bit.

Corin gets up rather abruptly, picks up the child and stalks out of the building without looking back. He doesn't need to see anymore of that. No thanks. Din is _clearly_ going to be busy for a while, so no need for them to hang around. And considering that they're probably going to want a little privacy, Din is a very private man after all, they're going to need the room upstairs. Right?

Any kind of luck and even the criminals scatters as Corin marches back to the Razor Crest, walking as if the ground has personally offended him and his mother.

-

It feels good to be back on the ship, even if the cargo door won't shut as noisily as he'd like, but Corin can finally place the child on its own feet and let it wander around in there where there is no wrecked furniture or ruined food scattered all over the place. It doesn't seem too happy, though.  
“Don't worry.” Corin mutters, opening the door to the child's compartment. “He'll be okay. He's being... looked after. By that... nice lady.” He arranges the bedding inside there like it too had caused him offense. “It's fine.” And it is! It's totally fine! Everyone deserves to vent a little.

Corin pauses, thumps his forehead against the wall and exhales. He has to get a grip. This is completely idiotic. Why can't he shut it down? Why can't he stop... whatever this is?

- _Stop your whining, boy! You don't matter, what you want doesn't matter, only the cause matters! Be useful, be quiet and be strong!_ His father's voice booms inside his head and for once he's grateful to hear it. Corin thumps his head one more time and then forces himself focus.

After making up the child's bed, he folds together the hammock and stows it away, then gathers blankets and makes up a bed of his own on the floor.

“Come on.” Corin picks up the child from where it is sitting and watching him with a pensive expression on its little face. “You're tired. I can tell. You can usually not sit still for more than ten seconds.” He leans down and nuzzles the fuzzy head, feeling the warmth of the affection he has for the child replace the weird unease plaguing him. “Sleep, I'll watch over you and I'll keep you safe, my little green bean. I promise. Tomorrow will bring new exciting adventures for you.”

Tucking the child in, with just the smallest amounts of protesting, it is just about asleep by the time Corin straightens up from leaning in to adjust the covers a little. He can't help but smiling at the sight and savors it for a few moments longer before he pushes the button to close the compartment door.

After removing his armor, Corin curls up on his makeshift bed, on his left side, and stares at the wall. He tries so hard not to think. Time passes but he can't find sleep. His mind is carefully blank, but his body is an aching mess of tension.

When the cargo door suddenly beeps and then opens, Corin remains where he is and continues to stare at the wall. There is only one other person who can open the door and while he is surprised that Din is there, he is also the last person Corin wants to see right now.  
Well, after Zev'sonya, that is.

There is the familiar sound of Din's Beskar-loaded step as he enters the cargo area, the door closing behind him, and he walks over to where Corin is lying, staring at the wall a couple of inches in front of him. “So this is where you and the kid disappeared to. I've been looking all over the town for you. Didn't you like the room back there?”

A petty part of Corin's brain is telling him not to answer, but he's already being frightfully insubordinate by not turning around to face the other man. “I thought you'd want some privacy.”

“It was just a bad joke from her, Corin. That's all.” Din kneels down behind him. “But you can't just disappear like that. I thought something had happened to you. You can't do that to me. Please...”

Realizing he hadn't thought about that, he honestly hadn't thought Din would even notice he was gone, Corin glances back over his shoulder at the Mandalorian. “Sorry...” He says quietly, feeling the guilt like a weight in his chest.

Din shakes his head a little. “Hey, you two are safe and unharmed. That's what is important.” 

It makes no sense to Corin for him not to be punished after such a massive mistake, but he can hear from Din's voice that he is forgiven. It is so damn confusing. Everything about this man is so confusing! “So, uh, shouldn't you be heading back to them?”

“No, I...” Din glances over at the door then back at Corin again. “Can I stay here? With you?”

Turning to stare at the wall again, his face flushing, even more confused, Corin tries and fails to sound neutral. This is Din's ship, why wouldn't he be allowed to stay there? “Of course.” And then nearly has a heart attack as 'stay here' meant actually 'here', and he feels Din moving and shifting to settle on his side right behind him, even going as far as placing a light hand on Corin's right bicep.

“Tomorrow,” Din says, his voice quiet and gentle, “I want you to stay on the ship with the kid. There's going to be some fighting, so me and Zev'sonya will deal with it. Mose is going to be our back-up, they'd see him a mile away if we tried to bring him, but I doubt we'll need him. Zev'sonya can fight pretty well if she has do and she seems highly motivated right now. Nothing motivates like revenge.”

-

Eyes narrowing at the approval in Din's voice, remembering too well the sight of the Twi'lek straddling Din like she had every right to, Corin acts, doesn't think. He reaches up to take a hold of Din's hand and pulls it forward in front of himself.  
Corin then slides his thumb under the edge of Din's glove and touches the smooth, warm skin under there like _he_ has the right to that at least. The skin feels every bit as perfect as the first time he'd done this. Corin wonders briefly why Din keeps rubbing at it when it's clearly flawless. And the sound Din now makes at Corin's touch is not pained, so there must be some other reason?

Still, even the touch can't help Corin shake being irrationally upset at the idea of Din and Zev'sonya heading into battle together, him trusting her to watch his back. Upset and hurt. Why her? What is so special about her? Does this mean she will join them on their travels? Or, worse, will Din take the child and join her and Mose, without Corin? Infatuation and loyalty tended to trump family in his experience.  
The idea is too horrible to withstand.  
“I don't doubt her motivation, I just don't understand why you want her.” Corin mumbles quietly. He then closes his eyes, tries once again to bury his feelings, but allows himself one final thing.

Corin leans down and presses his lips to Din's wrist. He feels the warm skin, the heat of him, how the pulse is yet again racing erratically like they are in mortal danger instead of hidden safely away in the belly of the Razor Crest. Keeping his eyes shut, Corin tries to memorize every sensation. It might be the last time he gets to do this. A heartbeat passes, then two...

Suddenly Din pulls his hand away and the rejection is a clear message that things have already changed. Liberties given earlier are no longer his to have, they belong to Zev'sonya now, and Corin tries desperately to hide how it is killing him inside. His good luck has run out. The dream is over, the indulging is over, it is time for Corin to return to the reality he knows too well. He must follow the order given to him and silently wait for whatever fate Din has decided for him after the mission is over.

Corin is completely unprepared for the feeling of bare fingertips brushing over the back of his right hand. His eyes snap open and he is even more surprised to see Din's hand is back, but without the glove. His naked touch makes Corin's skin flare up with heat.

“I don't want her.” Din states gently. His fingers shift over to Corin's left hand, which is merely lying on the covers, palm up, as stunned as the rest of him. Starting by the wrist where Corin's own pulse is now thrumming like crazy, Din's touch then slides up his palm until the digits touch by Corin's numb fingers and Din gently eases them into braiding with his. He squeezes his hand lightly, brushing his thumb over Corin's skin like he's unable to stop touching. 

Corin can't breathe, can't look away, can't think. He doesn't understand. He can only feel Din's skin against his. His presence behind Corin's back. The heat between them.

“Is this okay?” Din asks.

The question is so absurd that Corin actually struggles to process it, but after a few seconds he forces out a; “Y-yeah... It's fine.” He even moves his fingers a little, testing that he's still capable of using them, then carefully squeezes Din's hand in return. “I just...” His heart is racing so hard. Din doesn't want Zev'sonya? Of course he doesn't. The man has much better taste. The relief is fierce despite Corin's own reassurance that he'd really known all along that she'd failed to entice the Mandalorian. “If you tell me what you want, I could...” 

Corin could what? Find someone like that? Or... Corin could pretend to be someone like that? 

“If you want to do something for me,” Din says, “then just be you.”

Certain he'd heard wrong, Corin actually twists to look back over his shoulder at the t-visor. “What?”

There is a moment of relief, when Din lets go of his hand and Corin has a faint hope of having a functional brain again, but then things only gets worse as the hand comes up to cup the side of Corin's face instead, a thumb brushing over his lower lip.

-

Corin shivers. The kindness of the words and the alluring touch is just too much to resist. He moves over on his back, so close to Din now that Corin's shoulder is pressed against his breastplate, but neither seem to mind. “I'm serious.” Corin hates that his voice sounds so breathless and shaky. “Tell me what you want.”

“What do I want?” Din's fingers continue to wreck havoc, trailing along Corin's jawline, his eyebrow, the curve of his chin, leaving the skin hypersensitive and tingling. “I really want to touch you. Do you want that?”  
His fingertips dwell for a moment on Corin's lips, delaying his answer to add; “If you don't, tell me no. I'm not going to be angry. I promise. Trust me. You're allowed to say no, remember?”

The second the fingers leave his lips, Corin automatically licks his lips, as if he could claim the heat left behind by them, and he wonders how the hell he can be this blessed by good luck.  
Corin knows whatever happens here can't last, he's not worthy, they're not meant to be, can't be, Din is too perfect, worth so much more than him, but... but maybe Corin can have this? Whatever this is, for a little while? It would be more than he deserves, he shouldn't have this, he knows that, but maybe, just this one time, Corin could reach for it anyway?  
Wouldn't a moment of happiness be better than a lifetime of never knowing it, even if he's doomed to loose it? Wouldn't the agony be worth the bliss?

Corin quickly wrings off his own shirt and brings Din's hand to his chest. “Yes.”

The Mandalorian's touch is greedy, seemingly impossible to sate, but most noticeable is how gentle and agonizingly thorough it is, even as Din's hands tremble with impatience. Every inch covered by that touch feels worshiped. And then there is his voice...

Corin has been told he's pretty for all sorts of reasons, he's learned to mostly ignore it, but Din's bountiful and breathless declarations of “Perfect. Just perfect.” and “You are so beautiful.” makes Corin actually feel good about his appearance for the first time in his life.

His touch and that voice, it takes Corin apart. And that seems to be what takes Din apart.

Corin's only regret as he lies panting in Din's embrace is the fact that he barely got to touch the other man in return. Once he'd given his permission to Din, it had been like opening a floodgate and he'd been overwhelmed by the intense attention shown to him. It had been too good.

He's about to apologize, fearing it probably means this won't happen again, Corin had been given his chance to be what Din wanted and has quite possibly messed it up, but that's when Din hugs him a little closer and exhales the most content sound he's ever heard. The apology dies on Corin's lips. A shy smile replaces it instead. And he reaches up to gently run his fingers over the bare hand Din has resting on Corin's chest.

They end up hunting for Corin's shirt, re-arranging the covers and making themselves presentable while acting like giddy children. It's not fair that Din's helmet gets to cover his face as Corin feels his face flush every time the Mandalorian glances over at him, but he hears the broad smile in Din's voice when he speaks.

“We should get some sleep.”

Corin flushes again and nods. He crawls over the make-shift bed again, making sure to leave room for Din in case he wants to stay and not sleep in his pilot-seat like he sometimes will, and has to bite his lower lip to keep quiet when he feels Din curl up close to him again.

It's not the first time they share a bed, but it is the first time Corin falls asleep with Din's hand in his and his heart in Din's hands.

-

The next morning, Corin wakes up at an insisting beeping and groans annoyed. The wall behind him moves and sighs.

“It's Zev'sonya and Mose. They're here.” Din says, sitting up.

“Oh, joy...” Corin mumbles into his improvised pillow. Two seconds later, there is a whooshing sound as the compartment above him opens and something lands on his upper back. It nearly knocks the air out of him before Corin simply registers claws digging into him as the child tries to keep his balance.

“Oh, looks like the kid's awake too.” Din sounds far too amused for Corin's liking.

“Ow...” Corin grits his teeth and suffers through the child climbing down his back before he reaches out and drags it into his embrace to get back at the little one with several raspberries.

Din walks over to open the cargo door and moments later, Zev'sonya saunters inside and she grins at the sight of Corin and the child sitting on the make-shift bed. “You guys decided to spend the night on the ship, huh? Alone?” She crouches down in front of Corin and her grin widens even more. “You're welcome.”

Corin feels his face heat up within a heartbeat. There is NO way she could know. No way. And yet, her gaze is filled with knowing glee. He jumps to his feet and stalks over towards the ladder to the cockpit. “The kid needs his breakfast.” Even his ears are burning now.

It takes some time before Din joins him in the cockpit and then only to inform him that they will be heading out to deal with Zev'sonya's treacherous ex-employee now.  
“Stick by the ship. We'll be back soon.” Din says, lifting up the child to gently tap his forehead against the little head. “And you, you look after Corin, okay?”

The child chirps merrily, ears perking up and eyes glittering with amusement.

Corin makes a face. “Really funny.” He hesitates. “Just... be careful?”

“I will.” Din adjusts the collar on the child's clothing, stroking its head and ears a couple of times, then hands the child over to Corin. “You too.” He hesitates, then reaches out and slides his hand behind Corin's neck.

Corin instantly leans into the forehead touch. He closes his eyes for the duration of the contact, keeps them closed when Din moves away and doesn't open them again until at least fifteen seconds has passed since the Mandalorian left. He would only have asked Din to stay if he had.

After that, the waiting begins. Corin should be getting really good at waiting by now, but he's not. He hates it.

They stay inside the ship for a long while, playing with toys and whatever catches the child's attention, but eventually they venture outside without straying too far from the Razor Crest.

“Don't eat that. Don't...” Corin exclaims, but he's too late and can only see some wiggling feet disappear into the child's mouth. “Fine... But if you get another belly-ache, don't come crying to me. You can't just eat everything you come across. No wonder you're so fascinated by that Hutt. If you start chewing with your mouth open like he does, I swear there will be no sweet treats for a week. At least.”

Corin's speech tapers out as he notices that the child isn't even looking at him. No, it's looking at something behind him. It tilts its head and coos a greeting.

Ice cold dread fills Corin. He darts forward, grabs the child, and spins around while drawing his blaster. The sight that meets him does nothing to decrease the fear.

Three Storm Troopers are standing in front of the entrance to the Razor Crest and they are all aiming their blaster rifles at him.

Swallowing hard, Corin tries to angle his body so that any shot would hit him and not the child and keeps his aim on the middle Trooper. “What do you want?” Maybe it's just a coincidence? Maybe they don't know who he is and maybe they haven't heard about the child?

“You are Corin Valentis.” The middle Storm Trooper says. “Storm Trooper, former Snow Trooper, CT-113. Currently wanted for theft of Moff Gideon's property.”

Corin glances from one Trooper to the other, trying to read which ones are the experienced ones and who would be the bigger threat. “I didn't ask who I was. Let me remind you of the question; what do you want?”

The Storm Trooper on the left suddenly holsters his blaster, reaches up and unlocks his helmet to remove it, revealing a blond man with green eyes. “You're really him. CT-113. The one who got away.”

The other two Troopers lowers their blasters and removes their helmets as well.  
The middle one, a dark haired man, glances briefly over to check on the one to the right, a red haired woman with a scar on her face, before focusing on Corin again. “He talked so much about you, said you saved his life, but I didn't think we'd actually meet you. That was his big dream. He said you could help us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Q&As and other stuff, check out [my Tumblr.](https://sulphuryasecretcloset.tumblr.com/)
> 
> The full scene of the adult stuff will appear really soon in a separate work in the series, so keep an eye open for 'Touch and Taste' if you want more! ;)
> 
> And there will come a morning when Zev'sonya and Mose won't be there to interrupt and there will simply be ADORABLE family time.  
> Cac0daemonia is truly a deity among mortals and blesses us with GLORIOUS art! Look at that boop!<3 <3
> 
> [](https://imgbb.com/)  
>   
> 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Storm Troopers have a request.  
> Things go from complicated to worse.  
> Help comes from an unexpected soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a little delayed as I was working on this and 'Touch and Taste' at the same time so they could get posted at the same time. Hope it was worth the wait.  
> That being said, I simply must direct your attention to the GLORY that is this INCREDIBLE art work that captures that first tense meeting between Corin, the baby and the three ducklings. Cac0daemonia has truly blessed us all and I hope everyone can show their appreciation by showering our deity with kudos and comments on https://archiveofourown.org/works/22715569
> 
>   
>  [](https://ibb.co/10yKgkm)   
>    
> 

Corin shakes his head, trying to make sense of the words and failing. His aim doesn't waver at all, though. “He? Who he? What are you talking about? Who are you talking about?”

The middle Trooper, clearly the leader, lifts a placating hand. “Easy with the blaster, CT-113.”

Snarling, Corin tightens his grip on the trigger. “That is _not_ my name.”

The blond speaks up again. “ST-2199.” There is a flicker of sadness in his eyes. “He was my friend.”

“He volunteered to go to Nevarro because he thought there was a chance you'd appear with your Mandalorian after the Moff attacked their headquarters.” The leader explains quietly. “When they said CT-113 had shot him, we knew it was a lie and they'd killed him. That's when we decided to make a run for it if we got the chance.”

Corin feels numb, lowers the blaster a little and blinks as he feels the echo of blood splattering across his face. The young Storm Trooper. The one who had died back on Nevarro only because Corin didn't kill him on the mud planet. ST-2199. Corin hadn't even known his designation number.

“Meeting you here? It must be the will of the Force!” The blond exclaims.

Shaking his head, Corin looks down at the child as it makes a worried sound and is looking up at him as it feels his distress. “I hardly spoke to him...”

“You certainly made an impression.” The leader's voice says, not unkindly. “He joined the Troopers because he came from one of the fancy planets that suffered under the New Republic take-over, hoping that restoring the Empire would restore prosperity to his home, but... there's a lot of shady stuff happening these days. He didn't think he had a choice but to follow orders until he met you, the infamous CT-113, the one who got away.”

Drawing a deep breath, Corin makes himself look at them again and he lowers the blaster until it merely drops from his numb hand to the ground. “Listen, I tried to help him, I did. I'm really sorry for what happened to him...” Bad luck. Meeting Corin had been really bad luck for him. Bad luck didn't care if the Storm Trooper was somebody's friend.

The leader takes a step towards Corin but whatever he was about to say disappears in a roar of fire hitting the ground right in front of him. The Storm Troopers stumble away from the flames, Corin does the same, and between them lands a very furious Din who is loading up his flame thrower for a second blast.

Corin scrambles forward, grabbing a hold of Din's arm. “No!”

The blond Trooper comes to a halt when he bumps into something behind him and looking, he blurts out in surprise and fear; “A Hutt!” 

That kicks the Storm Troopers into combat mode, putting their helmets on and drawing their blasters again.

Mose grabs a hold of the blond's throat and lifts him, just as Zev'sonya comes out of nowhere and lands, knees first, against the chest of the Storm Trooper leader and knocks him on his back, vibroblades in both hands raised for the kill, just as Mose's tail knocks the legs under the female Trooper about to fire her blaster at the Twi'lek.

“STOP!” Seeing the mayhem, Corin shouts like the drill sergeants he used to hate.

Everyone freezes, staring at him.

“Just... stop. Please?” Corin carefully releases Din's arm and sends him a pleading look. “Please?”

Din stares at him return, tense and battle-ready, but eventually lowers his arm and gives a faint nod.

Corin hands him the cheerfully chirping child and quickly steps over to pull Zev'sonya off the downed Trooper while staring up at where the blond is still squirming in Mose's grip. “Let him down. Now.”

The Hutt glances over at Zev'sonya, now back on her feet and doesn't seem too happy about the situation either, but she nods and he lowers the Storm Trooper before releasing his grip on him.  
The three Storm Troopers clump together, back to back, surrounded by what they consider threats.

Corin exhales and this time he is the one to raise his hands in a placating gesture, to both parties. “It's okay. No one here wants a fight.”

“Don't be too sure about that,” the blond Trooper wheezes angrily, a firm double-grip on his blaster and visor locked on Mose, who lolls his tongue out and moves his tail like an angry snake.

“Why are these bucketheads still breathing?” Zev'sonya growls, ready to raise her vibroblades again and sink them through the white armor.

“They're here to talk. Not fight.” Corin states, glaring at her before turning to the leader of the Storm Troopers. “Right?”

After a moment of hesitation, the Storm Trooper nods.

Din steps up next to Corin. “Then talk.”

-

Zev'sonya and Mose draw back to hover by the ship's cargo door while Corin persuades the Storm Troopers to remove their helmets and sit down with him on the ground. Din stands guard next to him, blaster in one hand and the child on his other arm.  
“What's your name?” Corin asks the leader.

“ST-4501.” The man replies. “He's JT-201 and-”

Corin shakes his head. “No. Your name.”

The Troopers exchange glances then the leader points to himself. “I'm Kiergan.” He then gestures to the woman who has still to utter a single word. “She's Hauroko.”

The blond doesn't wait to be introduced, merely grins widely. “Everyone calls me Leave-it”

“Leave-it?” Corin echoes, a little curious as every nickname has a story. He remembers Drop's story and there is a touch of fondness with the agonizing grief that always follows the memory of his old friends.

Kiergan shrugs. “As you may have noticed, he has a problem with shutting up and he loves to latch on to uncomfortable topics. So we always have to tell him to Leave It.”  
Leave-it beams with shameless pride.

Corin exhales a faint laugh, shaking his head. “Duly noted.” He glances from one to the other before focusing on Kiergan again. “You said you wanted my help? My help to do what?”

“To do what you did.” Kiergan says, as if it is obvious. “Get away.”

“You want to defect?” Din asks, somewhere between wary and curious. “Why?”

“Things have been a mess since the fall of the Empire,” Kiergan explains, “but lately it's been getting worse. A lot worse. The war-lords are at each others throats even more than before. Instead of fighting the New Republic, they are making us kill other Troopers. They will use any means to destroy other former imperial fractions.”

“There are new weapons developed, that does all kinds of horrible things...” Leave-it says silently, casting a quick glance over at Hauroko. 

Kiergan nods. “Yeah, and there are some unsettling rumors. With the support for the Empire dwindling, it is getting harder for the war-lords to maintain their numbers with all this fighting going on.”

“Rumors say that some war-lords attack civil populations and...” Leave-it clears his throat. “And civilians are taken away, some no more than teenagers, and are given the choice of joining their ranks or die.”

“We just want out.” Kiergan sighs, weary and resigned.

Feeling a little lost, Corin shrugs. “So you came looking for me? Why?”

“ST-2199 said we should ask you for help. You got out. You can get us out the same way, right?” Kiergan says with badly hidden hope in his voice.

“And it's not just us!” Leave-it perks up again, eager. “I know several other Troopers who feel the exact same way. They're just looking for a way out.”

Corin blinks, stares from one to the other again, feeling tension crawling up his neck. Help them? The reason Corin got out, the only reason he is still alive, is because of Din and his kindness. The one time Corin tried to help a fellow Storm Trooper, ST-2199, it had ended... badly.  
Flinching once again at the feeling of phantom blood hitting his face at the memory of the Trooper's death, Corin's throat starts closing up and making it hard to breathe. They wanted to place their lives in his hands? Theirs, and others? Not to mention the danger it would expose the child and Din to. It would inviting bad luck! He can't breathe. He feels like he's suffocating.

Corin jumps up. “No. I'm sorry. No. I can't help you.” He spins around and stalks towards the Razor Crest, barely noticing Din following. Inside the cargo area, Corin pauses, tugs at the collar of his shirt in a futile effort to ease the pressure on his throat and automatically wipes at his face as if that could remove the long gone blood.

“Corin, wait.” Din says and he enters the cargo area as well. The child on his arm makes a concerned sound and its ears are drooping.

Gulping for air, Corin glances over at him when he comes to a halt by his side. “What? I can't help them. _You_ were the one who saved my hide and have kept me alive. A-and they want to involve others as well? No.” He can hear the rising panic in his voice, hates his own weakness and has to wipe at his face again. He has not asked for this responsibility. He does not want it! His father, Uncle Vecon, his commanding officers, they all told him he was hopeless at everything; he can't be responsible for their lives. He refuses to get more souls killed. He can't!

Din sighs, reaches his free hand up to slide it behind Corin's neck and letting it rest there as he pulls him close, allowing him to hide his face against him. “It's going to be okay. Just breathe.”

And, strangely enough, even though his face is pressed against Din's leather armor between his neck and the pauldron, Corin feels like it becomes a little easier to breathe again.

“They came to you for help. So let's help them.” Din says. “It means less Troopers chasing us. And they want to get others out too. The smaller his army is, the easier Gideon would be to deal with.”

Corin takes a step away and exhales. “Let's say we decide to help them. How can we know they are telling us the truth?” He swallows hard. “Most of the Storm Troopers I served with were there because they _wanted_ to be there. They wanted the violence. Were there exceptions? Sure. I hated the fighting. But a great number of them were brutal war machines and I was mostly alone in lacking enthusiasm for the carnage.” Corin manages a faint smile. “I have always been a disappointment. To my family. To the army. To these guys here.”

Din watches him steadily, doesn't hesitate. “Not to me.”

Stunned, Corin stares at him, once again struggling to breathe but for a very different reason.  
The child chirps happily up at them and Corin quickly moves his focus down to it and has an excuse to smile without turning things awkward between him and Din. “You agree with him, little dumpling? We should help them?” He swallows down his own unease. Corin trusts these two with his life. “Okay then.”

-

Walking back to the Troopers, Corin wishes he didn't feel so uneasy about this.

“Listen,” Din says to the three, “here is what is going to happen. We're going to help you to get some place safe, where you'll be able to stay under the radar and not starve while doing so. After that, we'll be on our way.”

Leave-it frowns. “But... what about the others?”

“Zev'sonya will plug you into the smuggler routes. She'll be able to help with communication and transport if there are others who also want out.” Corin explains.

“I will?” Zev'sonya drawls from where she's leaning against the ship next to Mose.

“Yes, you will.” Din says, leaving no room for arguing. “You want the ghost of the Empire gone too and any weapons or technology brought with the defectors will be yours.”

The Twi'lek considers it, glances over at Mose, finds no argument there and then shrugs. “Fine.”

“But...” Kiergan seems to look for the right words. “Without Valentis, how are we going to persuade them to join us? We need him.”

“No.” Corin says. “No, you don't.” He swallows hard. “You already have the hero you need.” When no one seems to realize who he is talking about, Corin reminds them. “ST-2199. A boy who was braver than any of them, who wanted more than to be a puppet and didn't let them scare him into obedience.”

“Michael.” Leave-it says, having to clear his throat. “His name was Michael.”

Nodding, Corin allows himself to remember the young man. “Michael. He will remind them of bravery and strength in a soldier and how little they mean to their masters.”

Kiergan looks over at Hauroko, who nods, then turns his attention back to Corin. “You'll help us set this up?”

“Yes.”

Din hands the child over to Corin and steps forward. “And we'll start now. Let's get those tracking devices out of your suits. How did you get here?”

“Our ship is parked on the other side of the mountain. We hiked over here on foot so you wouldn't see us coming.” Leave-it explains. “But we're supposed to be out on a scouting mission, so we won't be logged as missing on the Destroyer for at least two days.”

Din removes the trackers, one by one, crushes them under the heel of his boot in case their superiors would to try to activate them before the two days were up, and when the final one is destroyed, dusk is crawling over the planet.  
They end up creating a small camp outside of the Razor Crest, deciding it wouldn't be optimal to cram everyone into the ship after a long day and start on the journey with them trying to get some rest while scowling at each other in such a confined area. They may have agreed to work together, but Storm Troopers, smugglers and Mandalorians weren't the best of friends on a good day. They would spend the night on the planet and leave at first light.

The Storm Troopers huddle together by the camp fire. Zev'sonya demands Corin hands over the hammock and sets herself up between two trees nearby, with Mose sleeping on the ground and leaning against one of the trees.  
Din, Corin and the child are the ones who get to spend the night with a roof over their head; inside the Razor Crest. Good luck. 

Corin wraps the child up in his two regular blankets, somewhat surprised that there are no objections, usually it will whine a little about bed time, but now the little one appears asleep already. Placing it safely inside the compartment, making sure it is comfortable, Corin watches the bundle for a few seconds longer, then closes the door.  
Din is fidgeting with something on his left vambrace, standing next to the open cargo door. Looking at Din, Corin catches a glimpse of the three Storm Troopers all huddled up closely together by the fire. Knowing he'll sleep alone, judging by how tense Din is, he feels a hint of envy at the sight of them.

Sitting down on the makeshift bed, Corin watches as Din pushes the button to close the cargo door and walks over to the ladder that will take him up to the cockpit.  
“Get some sleep.” Din says, taking a hold of the ladder and glancing back at him. Whatever he sees, it makes him frown. “What's wrong?”

Corin shakes his head quickly. “Nothing wrong.”

Sighing, Din releases the ladder and turns to face him. “Talk to me. What's wrong?”

“Nothing.” Corin repeats. He looks down at the covers and plucks at a loose thread. “Nothing is wrong. I just, uhm, it can't be very comfortable sleeping in that chair? I mean, we're not flying and...” He dares to throw a quick glance up at Din, hoping his hints were strong enough so he wouldn't have to actually ask if he could please sleep down here next to him.  
Corin is worried that he'll have nightmares. Too much of his past is snapping at his heels.

Din's t-visor shifts slightly and in a heartbeat Corin knows that he's looking at the makeshift bed and is thinking about what had happened there the night before. A furious blush crawls up Corin's neck and he's about to blurt out that he didn't mean it like that! Although, if Din wanted to, then yes, please!... But, no, that's not what he... Unless... Oh, why weren't they up in space right now so that Corin could throw himself out into the vacuum and never be seen again?

“Sure.” Din says, taking the two steps over that is needed to bring him dangerously close. “But with those out there, I'm not taking the armor off.”

Corin nods, feeling a little stupid for having shed his. He holds his breath when Din settles next to him, waits for an awkwardness that never arrives. Din seems relaxed and Corin is grateful to have Din by his side, warm and solid, a reassuring presence against the dark thoughts that want to invade his brain. He inches a little closer. Din's arm sneaks around him in return. Suddenly sleep doesn't seem so scary anymore.  
And there are no nightmares that night.

-

Like always, Din is the first one to stir and Corin only wakes up when the Mandalorian moves away to get up on his feet. Grumbling with displeasure at having his main source of heat disappearing, Corin forces himself to get up as well.  
He's in the middle of fastening the last piece of armor when Din opens the compartment hiding the child and after a few seconds, leans in to lift the child out. “Corin...”

There is something about his voice that makes Corin spin around and feel a jab of fear. “What?” He quickly moves over to where Din is cradling the little one.  
Usually the child is ready to create havoc the second it opens its adorable eyes in the mornings, but now its eyes are barely open and the child whines a faint sound of discomfort.

“I think he's sick...” Din says, voice weak with dread.

“No.” Corin says. As if him denying it would make it less true. He can see the glassy eyes, the runny nose and its limp ears. “He can't be sick. What...” Raw panic is spreading through his veins. “What do we do?”  
Din just keeps staring at the child.  
“Din!” Corin snaps, too scared to remember his manners.  
It brings the Mandalorian out of his daze and he glances over at Corin.  
“What do we do?” Corin repeats, looking back down at the child and is torn apart by how miserable it looks. It sniffles and Corin's heart breaks. “We have to do something.”

Din stalks over and pushes the button that opens the cargo door. Corin trails helplessly behind him. Once the door is open, they head outside where dawn is barely breaking and the three Storm Troopers are startled awake.

“What's going on?” Kiergan asks, one calming hand on Hauroko's shoulder and one hand rubbing sleep out of his eye.

Din walks over and his voice sounds horribly uncertain as he speaks. “I think he's sick.”

The three get up on their feet, crowding around Din and the child, even the red head joins in this time, leaving Corin to hover uselessly behind them. “What's wrong with him?” Kiergan asks.

Leave-it frowns.“He looks feverish...”

“What species is he?” Kiergan tilts his head. “Some illnesses are contained to certain species.”

Corin swallows, feeling nausea rolling in his stomach. Bad luck cannot be this cruel. He's said that before, but this time he really means it. Bad luck _cannot_ be this cruel. He's just a child!  
The idea of losing the child, he doubts neither he or Din will survive that. But the child seemed fine yesterday! Didn't it? Corin tries to think, but can't remember anything out of the ordinary. Well, except for it being a little too cooperative during bed time. If Corin had reacted, could they have prevented this? Was this his fault?  
Hearing Kiergan and Leave-it suggest one horrible disease after another makes Corin shiver under the strain of keeping his panic from breaking free. No, nonono, please, no... He'll do anything...

“Oh for the love of...” Zev'sonya huffs as she stalks by Corin and shoves Leave-it aside to have a look at the child. She places the back of her hand gently against the child's forehead, uses the tip of the blanket to wipe its little nose before looking up at the unusually quiet Din who is just standing there like a statue. “My guess? Dust cough. It happens on planets like these. He's just a baby, so he needs to build up his immune system if he's going to be traveling around like this.”

Corin inches closer, wanting to weep at the sight of the sick child. So this _was_ Corin's fault. “I should have kept him on the ship... I should never have...”

“Don't be stupid.” Zev'sonya huffs. “It was bound to happen eventually on some planet. It's what kids do. Inhale germs, spread them around and then get better.”

Din glances over at her. “Is there a cure?”

Zev'sonya shrugs. “Yeah, but it is expensive.”

“Show me where to get it.” Din orders. 

She lets out a faint laugh and shakes her head a little. “Mando, you can't go back into town. Not after what we did against Veyn. You and I would be shot on sight.”

“Then I'll go.” Corin says quickly. A chance to do something to make up for failing to keep the child safe. “I'll go. Tell me where to find it. Please. I'll go.” He hasn't shed tears since he was a child himself, but he can feel his eyes burning right now.

Zev'sonya is about to reply, a look of doubt on her face, but then Mose says something in Huttese, suddenly hovering right behind Corin. Whatever he says, it makes both Din and Zev'sonya look at Mose with surprise and she says something back to him in Huttese. Mose merely chuckles.  
“Okay, listen,” Zev'sonya sighs at Corin, “Mose is going to take you to the guy who trades medicine. Do what he says.”

Relief floods Corin and he nods. “Affirmative. Roger that. I promise.” He looks over at Din, who is still standing like a statue, now looking down at the sleeping child. Corin doesn't need to see his face to know the agony there is the same as what Corin feels. Reaching out a cautious hand, he gently touches Din's arm. “I will get it. And I will hurry back.”

Din glances over at him and nods. “I know you will.” He then adds; “Be careful.”

“I'll come with you.” Leave-it suddenly says, getting no small amounts of surprised looks. He shrugs. “Sounds like those two made a ruckus in the town. Better I come along as back up, just in case.”

-

Despite his size, Mose is capable of keeping a decent pace. If not for how Corin is torn up with worry for the child, he'd be impressed. But now all he can think about is how warm the child's skin had felt when he'd kissed his head before leaving. Seeing the child so quiet, so still, it was so wrong.  
If only the child recovered, he'd never deny it anything ever again. He'd shower it with all the treats it wanted, he'd capture the damn frogs for him, he'd never complain about scratch marks or being used as a trampoline ever again. Just... let the child recover.

They travel in silence.

They enter the town and instead of heading towards where they had met up with Zev'sonya's informant, Mose heads for a dwelling at the end of a narrow street surrounded by tall buildings. It's a small house with only two windows. Mose can barely fit through the door, Corin follows, while signaling for Leave-it to wait outside and cover their possible escape route. 

Inside they stand in a messy room with walls covered by shelves brimming with bottles and other weird containers and Corin is just about to ask Mose what to do next when a door to their left opens and in enters a scruffy human wearing what looks to be the most shapeless overalls Corin has ever seen. “Mose.” The man greets. “After what your boss did, I'm surprised you dare to show your face here.”

Mose shrugs and answers something in Huttese.

The man laughs before shifting his gaze over at Corin. He has pale gray eyes that feels like hands as they trail over Corin from head to toe. “So I'm guessing there is trade to be made?”

Mose replies in Huttese and the man answers in the same language. They talk back and forth for a while, forcing Corin to clench his jaw to keep from asking them to hurry, and finally the man cackles with glee, clearly happy. He then pauses and gestures towards Corin and asks something in Huttese.  
Mose glances over at Corin, says something, which makes the man grin even wider, then he disappears through the door he'd entered.

Corin looks up at Mose. “Why did he point at me?”

“He wants to trade the medicine for you.” Mose replies.

Corin flinches, but tries to remain calm, for the child's sake. He has to get that medicine. “I thought you didn't deal with slavers?”

Mose shrugs. “We don't. He does.”

Corin's hand slowly moves over to his blaster. “I really doubt Zev'sonya agreed to this.”

The Hutt turns slightly to face him. “And if it is the only way to get the medicine, _bukee_?”

Corin opens and closes his mouth a couple of times. He's heard horror stories of what happens to slaves, knows there are some who would rather shoot themselves than fall in the hands of slavers, but if this is the only way to get the medicine? He swallows hard, lets his hand drop from reaching for his weapon and glances at the door. “Just... I need to tell Leave-it, okay? He has to let Din know. Once the child is well, I'll wait for the great rescue.” This isn't bad luck, this is justice. His well-deserved punishment for failing the child, letting it get sick. He just doesn't trust Mose to tell Din.

Mose rumbles and turns back to face the door where the man had vanished. “Relax. I told him you are not for sale.”

Blinking surprised, Corin feels a jab of fear. “But the medicine...”

“We're getting the medicine.” Mose replies. “Now, quiet.”

Confused but bound by his promise to obey, Corin keeps quiet. Even when the man returns with something that looks like it belongs in a torture chamber. A hand-held machine with a massive needle almost as thick as a screwdriver. It makes Corin take an instinctive step backwards.

“My clients are going to pay me a fortune for this!” The trader cackles, walking over to Mose, who holds out his arm to him. “I haven't been able to get a hold of Hutt blood for years. But I guess your folks can't think any less of you than what they already do, working for a damn Twi'lek, eh?”

Corin's shock and confusion does not lessen when the man jabs the needle at Mose's arm, needing three attempts to break the thick skin, and then draws out a fair amount of blood.

Once he has his prize, a glass container filled with Mose's blood, the man slaps a small cylinder into the Hutt's hand with a grin. He says something Huttese.  
Mose merely rumbles, turns and slithers out of the house, leaving Corin to scramble after him.

-

Walking back to the ship, Leave-it cheerfully trailing behind them and looking around like he's on a pleasant hike, Corin can't stop glancing over at Mose.

“What?” The Hutt eventually says.

“I just...” Corin sees where the needle had punctured the thick leather skin and the blood still drying there. “What just happened? Why did he want... that?”

“Hutt blood have certain qualities that induces... pleasant feelings in most species.” Mose explains, contempt dripping from his words. “It's worth a lot of credits as it is very difficult to get a hold of.”

Even more confused, hearing how much Mose hated doing this and guessing from the man's words that it was frowned upon by other Hutts, Corin has to ask. “Why did you do it? Why did you trade your blood for the medicine?”

Mose stops, turns his gaze from the horizon to look directly at Corin. “Everyone hates and fears Hutts. They see a Hutt, he must be as bad as the rest of them.” He fastens his gaze on the horizon again and starts moving again. “But not the child. Not afraid. No hate.”

Corin follows the Hutt with a weird sense of shame. True, he couldn't be blamed for being angry at Mose during their first meeting, the Hutt had tried to pummel the sense out of him, but it wouldn't have mattered if they'd met in under different circumstance. A Hutt was something to hate and fear. Everyone knew that. Just like Storm Troopers, right? They were all the same. Bad to the core.  
The child had watched Mose with awe, approached him with curiosity and open mindedness, something that Mose probably had not experienced in who knew how many years, if ever.

Lost in his thoughts, Corin fails to notice Leave-it sailing up next to him. The blond takes off his helmet and carries it under his arm. “So, can I ask you something?”

Falling for the temptation to being distracted from his guilt about the child's illness and his Hutt-prejudice despite being a former evil Storm Trooper himself, Corin sighs. “Sure.”

“You and the Mando.” Leave-it glances over at him, grinning. “You're not just business partners, are you? There's something more going on there. I can tell. I can always tell. So what are you two?”

Corin hesitates. What are they? Saying just friends would feel wrong. They crossed that line that night. Friends with benefits? No, that would be wrong too. Definitely a benefit, but it would feel too shallow. So, partners then? Maybe, but it still doesn't feel right.  
Frustrated, Corin glares over at the blond. “What we are? None of your business. Just... leave it.”

Chuckling, Leave-it lifts a hand in mock surrender. “Roger that.” He then shifts his focus to Mose. “Different question then. Why work with a Hutt? I mean, a Hutt! I thought working with Death Troopers were bad. You guys have a damn Hutt in your midst. Why?”

Remembering how Zev'sonya told them she'd been abandoned by her entire crew, except for Mose, who took on a Mandalorian to save her. “Because he's loyal.” Corin says. And there was also what Mose had just done for the child. “And because he's a lot better than most people I served with in the Imperial army.” He quickens his pace so he catches up with the Hutt and walks next to him, leaving behind a very puzzled Storm Trooper.  
Mose glances over at Corin, but Corin doesn't look back, merely pretends as if it is the most natural thing in the world for them to present a united front.

When they spot the ship in the distance, Corin's heart starts to really pound. What if something had happened while they were gone? What if the child had gotten worse? What if...

As it turns out, there hadn't been any real change since they'd left. The child had been sleeping most of the time. Still warm and with a runny nose. Din can barely utter a word as he hovers next to the camp fire with the child in his arms as they approach.  
Corin can't remember having seen him this scared.

Mose holds out the cylinder and Corin takes it. “Thank you,” he says, and means it.  
The Hutt merely slithers away to find his place by the tree next to Zev'sonya's hammock and the Twi'lek follows him with a concerned look on her face.

Feeding the medicine, a thick purple goo, to the child isn't too difficult as it doesn't bother arguing too much, merely swallows it down before going back to sleep again.

Corin wraps an arm around Din's shoulders, pushing his own fear and his guilt away. “It's going to be okay. Remember what you told me? He's a tough little one.” 

Din nods, leans a little into Corin's embrace.

And now all they can do is watch, hope and wait...


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Setting up a network for Storm Trooper defectors does not happen without a cost.  
> Corin struggles to believe what he's starting to realize.  
> Din pushes himself to his limit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly have no words for how much I love, love, LOVE this drawing. Cac0daemonia, the glorious deity, proves that absolutely NO challenge is too hard and brings us the unlikely duo of Zev'sonya the Twi'lek and Mose the Hutt in the glorious moment of the ADORABLE baby wandering away from his dads to check out this interesting new friend of his. It is just TOO ADORABLE and perfect! (And two seconds after this moment, Corin comes sliding into the frame, grabbing the child and 'saving' it from the scary Hutt!)
> 
> [](https://ibb.co/fGYS7Rx)

While it is tempting to just linger until the child is recovered, they have to board the ship and leave or risk either Storm Troopers looking for the three defectors or allies of Veyn finding them. Din, still holding on to the child as if he fears something horrible will happen if he lets go, settles in the pilot seat and Corin doesn't object. He knows he could easily have taken care of lift off and Din could have just focused on the child, but the Mandalorian clearly has a need to be in control of something right now as he cannot do anything about the little one's illness.  
So Corin settles in his seat, picks up the datapad with the translator and tries to distract his own fear with some studying. His brain is clearly not eager to cooperate, more intent on listening for every sniffle from the child and painting all sorts of horrible scenarios of what could happen if the illness does not let up, but Corin grits his teeth and tries to read instead of making things worse for Din with his worries as well.

The Storm Troopers, Zev'sonya and Mose are all stowed inside the cargo area. A couple of hours later, too restless to sit still, Corin gets up and, after a quick glance at the child asleep in Din's embrace, he sighs. “I'm just going to head down and check that they haven't killed each other and grab some water for the little one.” In the Academy, during training, they always underlined the need to keep hydrated during any illness.

Din nods. “Good idea. If they give you trouble, tell them I can open the cargo door from up here and vent them into space with the push of a button.”

Giving a faint smile, Corin nods in return, hesitates briefly before he reaches out and gently squeezes the vulnerable area between Din's neck and the Beskar pauldron in a quiet offer of comfort.  
Din doesn't say anything, merely reaches up and places his hand over his for a few seconds in silent gratitude.

It's really not a surprise to find the three Storm Troopers huddled by the ladder while Zev'sonya and Hutt are seated near the door at the opposite side of the room. Corin merely walks over and opens one of the stored boxes along the wall and pulls out some food and water. None of them had any time to eat anything before take off and hunger never did improve an already hostile environment.

Tossing one small package of dried meat to one Storm Trooper after another, followed by a big bottle containing water, he picks up one more package of meat of the size he'd given them before pulling out one the size of all four together along with a second water bottle.  
Walking over to the smugglers, Corin tosses the bottle and the small package over to Zev'sonya and then holds out the large one towards the much larger Mose.

The Hutt eyes the food with clear distrust and does not move. When Corin makes no sign of giving up, Mose grumbles annoyed. “I didn't do it to win any favors from you.”

“I know.” Corin says, feeling no less grateful for what Mose had done to get the medicine for the child. “You did it for him. I really appreciate that.” He wiggles the food he's holding towards him.

Mose's eyes narrow. “What do you want in return for this then?”

Zev'sonya, already in the middle of eating hers, bumps her hip against his side. “Take it, you idiot. He's trying to make friends with you.”

Her words only seems to make Mose even more unsettled. He almost looks like Corin has asked him out on a date or something and he doesn't quite know how to deal with it.

Corin sighs and holds it even closer. “Take it. Please.”

Slowly, reluctantly, the Hutt does.

Knowing he will most certainly butcher the pronunciation, Corin still tries to utter the two words he'd memorized from the datapad when he'd found no word for 'thank you'. _”Panwa, pateesa.”_ Huttese isn't as difficult as Mando'a, but he is nowhere near certain he'd gotten it right. _'Enjoy, my friend'._

Mose blinks as if he was just slapped in his face, a drop of drool slides from his surprised, half-open mouth before he quickly closes it and merely rumbles something, his tail curling awkwardly, and he turns his full attention to the package in his grip.  
Zev'sonya tries to hide her laughter behind her food.

Walking back to the Troopers, feeling a little smug about being able to surprise the Hutt, Corin looks from one to the other. “You guys doing okay?”

“Yeah. Thank you.” Kiergan says with badly hidden gratitude. “Thanks to you.”

-

Corin glances over at where the red haired woman, Hauroko, is eating. She has yet to say a word and this close Corin can see her scar is still healing under a strip of bacta.

“She's just working through some stuff.” Kiergan explains quietly.

“That bastard Moff Gideon ordered her squad to a small village to hunt down some stupid artifact he wanted.” Leave-it spits with quiet anger. “When they couldn't find it and the villagers claimed it wasn't here, he ordered the squad to-”

“Leave it.” Kiergan growls, seeing how Hauroko has stopped chewing, has stopped everything.

“And when they refused, when she refused, he used this creepy sword and cut them down instead. She was the only one who survived, who he let live, so we'd all know what happens if we refuse to follow orders.” Leave-it continues, his voice now shivering with still growing rage. “That damn sword cut through her helmet like it was nothing.”

Kiergan punches him hard in the shoulder. “I said, leave it!”

Corin keeps his focus on Hauroko. “I'm sorry.”

Swallowing the dried meat she'd been chewing on, she then slowly turns her weary gaze over to Corin. “Michael said you were different. You didn't kill him when you had the chance. You had shed the armor.” Her voice is barely a whisper, rough with disuse. It is the voice of someone who has just about given up. “He was so certain that you could help us if we could only reach you.”

Knowing it would do no good to point out just how wrong the young Trooper had been, that Corin hadn't even been able to save himself, Corin holds her gaze, tries to give her hope. “I will do whatever I can to help. You have my word. And with Din on our side, good luck is on our side.”

Returning to the cockpit with a bottle of water, feeling a little exhausted at all the feelings tearing at him; smugness over Mose, the suffocating pressure of the faith that the other Troopers had in him, and strongest of all; his concern over the little one being sick, Corin forces a netural expression on his face and walks up to the side of the pilot seat where Din is sitting. He doesn't want him to worry about Corin as well. “How is he doing?” He hands Din the bottle and is surprised to see the child sitting somewhat upright on Din's lap, even if his nose is still running and his eyes are still quite hazy.

“He seems a little better already.” Din says, trying to hide his nervous hopefulness and failing. “Don't you think?” He opens the water bottle and offers it to the child, who slowly accepts and drinks a little.

Corin exhales with relief. “He does.” Never mind good luck, did the medicine work this fast? Wild hope spreads inside his chest and he can't help but to smile. If the medicine was this efficient, he was going to keep throwing gifts at Mose until the end of days. “He really does.”

The child lowers the water bottle, lets Din take it away and put the cap back on, sniffles a little, then closes his eyes and lets out a sneeze.

The Razor Crest jolts hard as if it was just hit by something, nearly sending Corin tumbling over the control panel and Din sliding out of his chair. The ship's computer flashes white and goes dead for several seconds before it flickers back to life.

Regaining their balance in the almost eerie quiet and stillness after that, Corin and Din stare at each other before they both slowly glance over at the child, who gives them a faint giggle in return.

“Maybe...” Corin begins, “maybe we should hurry to wherever we're going?”

“Yeah...” Din replies, leaning forward to increase the speed the second the computer is back online. “Probably a good idea.”

That's when the door to the cockpit opens and Zev'sonya appears. “Did somebody die up here?”

Corin puts on a smile. “Just a minor, uhm, technical difficulty. It's all fine now.”

She glances from him to Din and back again, before sending him a meaningful look. “Fine. Keep your secrets for now. I'll find out later anyways because you humans suck at keeping them for long. But if you get us killed, I'm going to haunt the both of you. Forever.”

Corin keeps the smile on his face until the door closes behind her and she's gone. Then he looks over at the sniffling child on Din's lap. “How long until we arrive at our destination?” He's only now realizing that he's kind of forgotten to ask where they're going, he is still so used to everyone else making that decision that it hadn't occurred to him to ask.

“At this speed,” Din says, “and if nothing, hm, unexpected happens, about 8 hours.”

The child tilts back to rest against the Mandalorian's arm yawns, sniffles and is asleep. For now.

-

They do reach their destination without anything unexpectedly happening and Corin is surprised to see that it is a planet covered mostly by water and riddled with what seems like countless tiny islands.  
The temperature is warm, but not too much, pleasant actually. Din lands the ship on an island with only one large building, the rest of the surface is covered with deep green plants and it is surrounded by sandy beaches that seemed to sparkle like untouched snow. Even the drowsy child places a hand against the window and sends Corin a bleary but pleading look.

“Soon, little bean.” Corin promises, bringing him below where Din and Zev'sonya load up on weapons under the wary glare from the three Storm Troopers. “They just got to talk to someone and make sure it is safe first.”

The second the door closes behind Din and Zev'sonya, Leave-it grumbles. “I don't get why we have to wait here.”

“Because this is _ulwan_ territory and you'd be shot on sight wearing that armor.” Mose drawls from where he's lounging next to the door.

“And you?” Kiergan asks. “Why are you not going with them? Surely they don't mind Hutts?”

Mose smirks. “I'm here because the _Musishani_ doesn't trust you yet.”

Corin closes his eyes briefly, too nervous about Din wandering off into danger without him to have patience for bickering. He wonders when he'd gone from having one child to four. “Guys. Please. Let's just... wait. Quietly.”

They do. Grudgingly. And the silence is almost worse.

Corin tries not to think, tries to keep his worry contained to the still sniffling and hazy eyed child, wiping the nose from time to time and offering him water with soft whispers of praise when he drank. He's so intent on this that he flinches when the door suddenly opens some hours later.  
Surprise is replaced with relief when he sees Din stalking inside, followed by Zev'sonya. “Hey. You okay? Everything okay?”

Din grunts. “It's... fine.” He pauses next to him, reaches out to gently draw his hand over the child's head. “How's this guy?”

“The same. Still snotty.” Corin tries a smile, increasingly anxious by the tension in the Mandalorian's shoulders. There is clearly something Din has to tell him. “What's wrong?”

Din gives the child a couple of more lingering pets, then sighs and nods towards the cockpit. “Let's go. We should talk.” He looks over at Zev'sonya. “Tell them what he told us? We'll be right back.”

Corin frowns, sees her nod, doesn't hesitate to follow Din into the cockpit and barely waits for the door to close behind them before asking. “What happened out there?”

Din turns to look at him, sighing again. “Your friends can stay here. Zev'sonya more or less threatened the guy to give you your own damn island at a pretty decent price.”

Shaking his head, confused, Corin takes a step closer. “That's good, though? Right? What...?”

“They're going to need supplies. And if others are coming here, there is going to be a need for transport, communication, a whole network.” He speaks as if he's done this before and remembering how the Covert moved, he probably has, multiple times. “I can do that through mine and some of Zev'sonya's contacts. She's agreed to help with everything. But... a lot of those contacts are hard to find and they said they will only discuss terms while meeting face to face with me and her. In areas where I'd rather not bring the kid. Even if he wasn't sick. Or you.”

Hanging on every word, Corin suddenly can't breathe. “You're leaving us behind?”

Din shrugs one shoulder. “I... Listen, we can bring your friends to the island and just be on our way. They should be fine for a while, at least, and they're clever. They'll find their way. Some way.”

Corin nods, feeling increasingly miserable. They could do that. They could. Corin had not told them to seek him out, had not asked for the burden of trying to set up some defector network, but... He swallows hard, knowing why Din was so upset. Din didn't want to go, didn't want to leave neither him or the child behind, but he would if Corin asked him to. It would be the price to pay for saving his fellow Storm Troopers.  
Corin shakes his head, wondering how he can be expected to make such a choice. “We promised to help them... And help others.”

“I know.” Din replies, carefully neutral. “Tell me what to do. What do you want?”

Unable to look at him, staring at the uneasy child instead, Corin tries to think. “I can't...”

“Yes. You can. You have to.” Din insists, but not unkindly. “Tell me what to do.”

“I could go instead?” Corin offers meekly. “You stay. This is my promise. My mess. You shouldn't-”

“Our mess. Our promise.” Din counters. “And, no. They'll deal with me because they know me.”

“How long?” Corin whispers, feeling numb where he's not prickling with despair. “And how dangerous?”

Din considers his words. “If all things go smoothly, about seven days. How dangerous? Nothing I can't handle.”

The answers just makes it even worse. Corin wants to scream. This isn't fair.

“Tell me.” Din insists softly, his voice filled with sadness too as he knows what the answer will be.

“I'm sorry...” Corin breathes, hardly believing he's actually asking Din to go, but having far too much faith in Din's skills not to give others like himself a chance to escape. “I'm so sorry...”

Din nods, reaching out and pulling him close and into a hug that allows him to embrace him and the child at the same time. “It's okay.”

“It's not.” Corin states bitterly, reaching out with his free hand and taking a desperate hold of him.

“No.” Din agrees, letting his own fingers take a greedy hold on Corin's shirt. “But it will be.”

-

It takes barely ten minutes between the Razor Crest taking off to them landing on the island where hopefully future Storm Trooper defectors might find a safe haven. While smaller, it has a similar design to the first one with a singular building surrounded by green plants and glittering beaches.  
Usually Corin would have been enchanted by the beauty, but now he is just clinging to the child and praying he hasn't just made a horrible decision that will cost more than he can handle paying.

The building has a surprising amount of rooms, especially as there is another level hidden underground. Everything is dusty, there is barely any furniture, showing every sign of having been abandoned for quite some time, but even in his gloom Corin cannot deny how it is exactly what they need.  
His only objection is how they have barely looked around the place before Din and Zev'sonya wants to leave on their mission.

“Be careful.” Corin mumbles as they stand next to the ship, wanting to wrap himself around the Mandalorian and not daring because everyone is watching them. How can he always be this unlucky?

Din reaches out and moves the child from Corin's embrace into his own, settling it on his right arm before reaching out to grab Cori's shoulder with his left hand. “Listen to me. _You_ be careful, okay? Even the Empire found this place too difficult to control, so this might look peaceful but it is not. This is a very dangerous place, almost as bad as where I'm going, so you do whatever you have to keep the kid and yourself safe. I'm trusting you to keep my family safe, you and him, so don't do anything... reckless. You have to keep the both of you safe. For me. Understand?”

A weird mix of grief and affection snares his throat up tight and Corin can only nod.

Din speaks softly to the child in Mando'a and while the direct meaning of the words are still a mystery to Corin there is no mistaking the love in them.  
“Wait...” Corin can't stand this. He can't ask Din to risk his life and separate himself from the child just because Corin feels obligated to help other Troopers. He can't. “Stay. We'll find some other way. There is some other way. There has to be.”

Din shifts his hand over to cradle Corin's neck and pulls him in as he leans forward. The Beskar surface feels cool and lovely against Corin's forehead. “Seven days. Then I'll be back. You have to be here then. You and him. Safe. Unharmed. Whatever it takes. Promise me.”

Closing his eyes tight, hearing the child make an unhappy coo, Corin forces himself to nod. 

And as the Razor Crest flies away, he holds the child close and watches the ship grow smaller and smaller, desperately praying that good luck follows it. Then he turns around, sees the three Storm Troopers watching him curiously and Mose hovering in the back, and knows they have a lot of work to do.

Keeping busy turns out to be the one thing that can make the days pass. There are moments when Corin finds he misses Din so much that he has to stop in his tracks and try to remember how to breathe, but he focuses on the child, on handing out assignments to the Troopers to restore the building.

On the second day, a small group of what appeared to be criminals more or less crash lands on the island and decides that they'd might as well attack and steal whatever they can. To his surprise, Corin finds the Storm Troopers looking to him for orders as the rogues approaches. To his bigger surprise, he finds that he tells them what to do and they follow him into battle. Even Mose obeys. And they fight together really well.  
There are four attacks in six days by different fractions of criminals. Three are dealt with somewhat easily, Corin can't help but notice that his aim has improved a lot, but the final fight draws blood from the defenders. Corin feels a strong jab of guilt at seeing the blaster wound in Kiergan's shoulder, but at least nobody from his crew are killed due to Corin's decisions and this only strengthens their blind faith in him, to his ever increasing discomfort.

He learns that Kiergan was the oldest of four brothers. Hauroko had barely began leading her squad before the horrible incident with Moff Gideon. Leave-it loves to sing, but doesn't do it very well. And Mose, surprisingly enough, is an excellent babysitter.  
The three Storm Troopers are eager to join Corin on his morning work outs and while it is nice to not train alone or be met with annoyance for doing so, he also feels childishly pleased about how he is more than capable of keeping up with them, even outshining Kiergan and Leave-it at push-ups.

During the quiet intervals between fighting and working, Corin spends his every moment with the child. He is relieved to see the kid's health improving and by the fourth day it is free of any sign of illness. The child loves their current surroundings, tottering around and exploring. (It only tries to eat a crab once and decides getting pinched is no fun so he leaves them alone after that.) Sitting on the east-side beach, Corin holds a small rock up on his palm and smiles as the little one reaches out a hand, narrows its eyes in deep concentration and makes it levitate.

The only thing that starts miserable and stays miserable are the nights. While Mose finds a room to his liking far away from the others, the Troopers huddle together in a single room and offers Corin to join them. He declines. He chooses a temporary room with a good view and several escape routes and waits for Din to return and his decision on which room he wants. Corin makes sure that there are two beds in his room in addition to the child's crib, just in case, and spends the nights listening to the silence. Exhausted but barely able to sleep.

-

At the end of the sixth day, after having tucked the child in and curled up on his side in his own bed, his back towards the door, Corin spends hours pondering when he should start looking up at the sky tomorrow, scouting for the Razor Crest. The child is going to be ecstatic when Din comes back.

The lack of sleep wearing him down and being distracted by the thought of Din's imminent return, those are the only two reasons Corin can think of as to why he doesn't pick up on someone approaching before the door to his room opens.  
Instantly tensing up, surprised that someone had been able to get by Kiergan and Hauroko on guard duty tonight, Corin is about to reach for the blaster by his bed when the person walks inside and in an instant he recognizes everything about that walk. Stunned by surprise, he merely listens as they step ever closer, pause briefly by the child's crib, then move over to stand next to Corin's bed.

“I thought I told you to stay on your guard?” Din's voice teases quietly.

Corin smiles, but doesn't move. Good luck can't be this kind? This has to be some kind of amazing dream. “If you intend to sneak up on me, you're going to have to do something about the clinking sound of Beskar every time you move.” He rolls over on his back and is flooded with pure joy at the sight of the Mandalorian standing right there. “You're early.”

Din shrugs. He glances over at the crib where the child is still asleep. “How is he?”

“He's fine. Good. All better. The medicine had him up again within days.” Corin tries really hard to act dignified despite how giddy he's feeling. “Why are you early? You said seven days. I would have... Did everything go well?”

“You have your network of supplies and transport.” Din confirms and his gaze moves over to the second bed there. “It went smoother than I had anticipated. Plus, I pushed the engines a little bit.”

Corin scans his stance while Din is distracted and sees fatigue. “You're tired.” And at the confirming hum the Mandalorian makes, Corin speaks before he thinks. “I was going to change the mattress on that bed tomorrow before you arrived. It's really bad. I tried it and I couldn't sleep at all. That's why I ended up in this one.” He swallows hard when Din slowly turns his t-visor to focus on him, nervous he's just crossed the line and yet hoping that the barely hidden suggestion would be accepted. His hand shakes when Corin pulls the covers aside to offer a place next to him.

Din is frozen for about three seconds, then he exhales, a sound between relief and amusement, and to Corin's surprise; he starts to unbuckle his left pauldron. “If you don't mind...?”

Corin shakes his head, mute, merely continues to watch as Din removes one piece of armor after another. He only starts to life when Din is free of Beskar, wearing only his under-armor, and Corin quickly scoots over to let the Mandalorian into the bed with him.

It's not a bed made for two, but Corin knows how well they can fit together. He moves over on his side, holds his breath and then breathes with a smile when he feels Din do the same and curls up close to his back. There is only one thing missing. He reaches back, finds Din's arm and pulls it forward to wrap around him.

He does not expect how Din hugs him tight, as if he's missed him too, but stars above; it feels good.

Corin covers his hand with his and their fingers automatically braid together. He feels Din's quiet breathing, the heat of him, the smell of weapons and spices from another planet, and savors how solid and real and _here_ he is. Once again Corin speaks before his brain can stop him. His heart won't be quiet. “I missed you...”

When his only answer is silence, Corin has a moment of dread, but when it is followed by a soft snore, the fear is replaced with relief. And concern. For Din to fall asleep this quickly, he must have been more than tired. He was clearly exhausted. How hard had he pushed those engines? Himself?

Corin carefully lifts Din's hand up, presses a light kiss to the gloved fingers and sends a prayer of gratitude to good luck for being on their side this time and bringing them back together again.  
And within minutes, holding Din's hand securely against his chest, Corin is asleep as well.

He sleeps so deeply, so soundly, that he wakes up only after after the child has somehow found its way into the bed with them and Din has shifted over on his back. Corin hears Din speaking in Mando'a, hears the child's happy coos, and it feels so right that he keeps his eyes closed, doesn't move, wants this moment to last forever.

It doesn't, of course, because seconds later the child jumps and lands on Corin's back like a loth-cat and the little claws has him arching away with a hiss of pain.

“Ah. Not asleep then? Merely pretending. Tsk tsk.” Din mock-scolds, picking the child up and lifting it away from Corin's back so he can turn around and face them with a slight smile.

“I was worried I was just dreaming.” Corin says, sitting up next to Din and tugging lightly at the child's ear to get back at it for busting his cover. He focuses on the Mandalorian again. “But you're really here, aren't you?” It's strange. While he had missed him, desperately, he hadn't doubted his return. It had been 'when', not 'if'. Not anymore.

Din leans in and pulls him closer into a soft and lingering touch between his helmet and Corin's forehead, his gloved fingers brushing gently at Corin's neck in what cannot be -and yet cannot be interpreted as anything but- a caress. It can't be, but, oh, how Corin wants it to be.

The door to the room is suddenly flung open and Zev'sonya marches in. “Here you are!” She states at the sight of the Mandalorian having the start of his life. “You two can boink again later. I need you to talk to these Imps, Din. Maybe if you explain the deal to them, it'll get through their bucketheads! It's simple. I don't know why they are complicating and questioning everything.”

Corin is torn between being embarrassed beyond words and shocked into muteness.

Din merely sighs and glances over at him. “Sorry.” He hands over the giggling child and gets out of bed. “I'll deal with this. You relax. We'll catch up later, okay?”

-

After they've left, Corin lazes around in the bed for a bit, playing with the child, allowing himself to indeed relax. Din is back. All is well again.

When time passes and Din doesn't reappear, the child gets restless and Corin decides to head out and allow him to play outside.  
And because it is warm and pleasant, they head down to the beach.

The little one loves the ocean and Corin is trying to teach him to swim, with little to no success as it mostly ends up with them just playing in the water. As a child, Corin had learned the harsh way that every lesson was exactly that; a lesson, with no room for anything else, but he finds that he rather enjoys them just having fun. His father would have Corin running laps until he threw up for thinking these foolish thoughts, but hearing the child laugh somehow seems more important than forcing it to learn as fast as possible.

Stripping down to his underwear, Corin carries a very undressed child into the lukewarm and quiet waters, letting it squeal happily and flail with both arms and legs with glee once they are deep enough for the water to reach him.

Corin holds the child afloat, lets it splash around and play, is less surprised now when the little one creates a wave to crash over them both than he'd been the previous time. He supports the child with his left hand as it continues to splash away, using his free hand to smooth his own hair back from his face after the dunking, and that is when he notices that Din is standing on the beach.  
His heart skips a bit, Corin can't quite believe he's back, he's really there, and he nearly drops the child as it eagerly makes a lunge towards the beach when it too notices Din's presence.

“Okay. Alright. Calm down.” Corin gets a better grip on the child and starts wading towards shore. He sends Din a trying smile as he steps out of the water and on to the sand to where the Mandalorian is standing. “Hey. Did you sort everything out?”

Din doesn't answer. He doesn't even move. For a moment, Corin can't even see him breathe.

Instantly worried, Corin steps closer, trying to hold on to the squirming child. “What's wrong?”

Din twitches and says something that is either Mando'a or just a mess of vowels before he clears his throat and starts over. “Yeah, no, everything is fine. They just needed to hear it from someone not a smuggler, it seems.” He clears his throat, his t-visor shifting restlessly as if he can't quite decide on where to look. “Zev'sonya even managed to broker a deal for a ship for them. It should be arriving in a day or two.”

Surprised and thrilled, knowing it would give Kiergan and the others freedom to come and go as they pleased, Corin moves close enough to touch if his hands weren't busy with the warbling child continuing its efforts at breaking free. Corin shakes his head, can't stop smiling, doesn't understand why Din is doing all of this for him. “How can I ever repay you?”

“There is nothing to repay.” Din says, his voice soft, same as the touch as he gently cups the side of Corin's face. “And if there was, you just did. With that smile.”

Dazed, Corin can't help but to lean a little into that touch as his heart is suddenly beating so hard he's certain Din can actually hear it. Saying a thing like that, touching him like this, it sounds like... But Corin has done nothing to deserve this! Even this last week, all he's done is sit on his ass while Din did all the work, faced all the danger and showed yet again how amazing he is.  
Clearly Corin must be, somehow, misunderstanding this. He can't be this lucky. He can't!

The child makes a frustrated cry out of nowhere and several things happens at once.

Corin feels an invisible shove to his back, sending him forward, into Din's automatic embrace, but at the same time he feels his grip forced loose and the child slips from his hands to land on its feet.  
Din makes a half-strangled sound for some reason, but Corin is too distracted by the child's squealing escape; darting off in a wobbly run as fast as the little legs will carry him.

“Hey!” Corin quickly untangles himself and runs after the child. “Get back here. What do you... I said, get back here. Now. You can't run around like that. You gotta put some clothes on!”

And to make things even more weird, that makes Din break into a laugh and there is an almost tormented touch to it as he merely watches the chase and does absolutely nothing to help.

-

After capturing the child and getting both it and himself dressed, Corin offers to show Din around and what they'd achieved in his absence. It's more than a little rewarding to see Din nod approvingly and hand out what sounds like genuine praise at the fortifications, the rooms they had restored for use, the power-system Hauroko had set up that allowed for computers and radar to be installed and the area they had started to clear of vegetation to give room for more than one ship to land there.

In return, Din told him about the deals made, all a little too good to be true so clearly he and Zev'sonya had either used threats or bribes or both during negotiations, as well as showing Corin the weapons they'd brought back along with crates of food.

The only draw-back is the _constant_ bickering between Zev'sonya and Leave-it with Kiergan constantly shouting for them to shut-up.  
Corin leans sideways towards Din who is standing next to him in the power-room during yet another shouting match between the others. “I actually miss the good old days when it was just the three of us on the ship.” He flushes a little the second he's spoken the words out loud, realizing how it reveals just how horribly selfish Corin is.

Din leans towards him as well, their shoulders touching. “Me too.” 

Corin glances over and grins, easily sensing the smile he gets in return from behind the t-visor, and is only momentarily confused at a strange beeping sound.

Sighing, Din lifts his left arm and opens the vambrace to reveal the small screen under there. He pushes some buttons, goes still as whatever message he's received comes up on his HUD, if his helmet is anything like the Storm Trooper kind, and then he makes an annoyed grunt.

“What's wrong?” Corin asks, because of course something is wrong. Something always goes wrong.

“The ship. We got to pick it up. Pilot decided to start a fight and get himself killed in a bar.” Din shuts the vambrace. “Great.”

“Is it far?” Corin asks quietly, turning his gaze on the child wobbling by them while wearing Zev'sonya's jacket with medium success. He hates that Din will be leaving again. Its like a darkness descends and the taste of utter disappointment is bitter.

“Not far.” Din says. “There and back again within a day.” He glances over at Corin, probably noticing his gloom. “Want to come along this time?”

Snapping his gaze up at him, Corin can't fight off a hopeful smile. “We can?”

Din shrugs. “Sure. It's not in dangerous territory. We've been through worse.” He bends down and untangles the arm of Zev'sonya's jacket from whatever it had accidentally gotten stuck on and frees the child to continue its march. “We just need a pilot for the other ship.”

“Hauroko.” Corin states, knowing she was the one capable pilot of the three Troopers. Zev'sonya had already spent more time with Din than he had for the last week and Mose would probably not fit in a cockpit.  
Stepping on board the Razor Crest again, the cooing child on his arm and Din by his side, Corin feels a strange sense of relief, as if this is how things are meant to be. The island is lovely, but it isn't home.

Zev'sonya had not been happy about being left behind and Din choosing to bring Hauroko instead, but she agreed to help out defending the place if another group of rogues should appear.

Din in the pilot seat, the child curled up in its seat-contraption while chewing on some dried meat, Corin in his seat with his translator datapad and Hauroko choosing to remain in the cargo area, it is a blissfully quiet journey.  
Occasionally Corin will try to pronounce a Mando'a word and Din will either nod or give him the correct pronunciation, letting him repeat it until he got it right. 

“Verd ori'shya... beskar'gam.” Corin glances up from his datapad to look at the back of Din's helmet and holds his breath in anticipation to see if he got it correct. _A warrior is more than his armor._

Din sounds pleased when he merely replies with: “Ori'jate.”

Corin blinks, sighs, then starts scrolling down his datapad. “Or... Ori...” And suddenly there it is; 'Excellent, very good.' A wave of warmth spreads through all of Corin and he sinks a little into his seat with an embarrassed smile as he realizes he has no idea how to respond. He's got no training in responding to praise.

Seconds pass but the smile just won't go away and Corin snorts a little at his own foolishness, but is then distracted by the child standing up in its crib with a worried sound. Its ears droop and it seems... scared? Frowning, he sees its attention is directed at something behind him, something in space, Corin turns his head to see what has caught his attention.

Right next to them, a Star Destroyer appears from a hyperspace jump.

Dread drops like a rock into Corin's belly. Din curses and tries to maneuver the Razor Crest into a desperate escape, but it's too late. There will be no escape this time. Bad luck has caught up.

The Destroyer's turbolasers slam into them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a wait for this chapter, I know, but I shall do my very best to be a lot quicker with the next one. Real life is just not being very cooperative these days. Your encouragement is priceless to me, so thank you everyone!
> 
> (And, for the record; we all know Din can sneak up on anyone he actually wants to sneak up on ;) )


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad luck and worse luck...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The dreaded chapter 18! But before we start the angst-fest, feast your eyes on this GORGEOUS art from chapter 17 that our deity Cacodaemonia has blessed us with! <3 <3  
> I swear, I can almost 'hear' the ocean, feel the sand and look at those reflections in the beskar! Aaaah!  
> Seriously, take a moment and linger here with our little family, just for a moment, before you enter into chapter 18 and the darkness that awaits you there...
> 
>   
> [ ](https://imgbb.com/)  
> 

The first hit shakes the Razor Crest like a planet-quake, but the second and third hits are even worse. The ship's left engine explodes, red lamps are blinking everywhere and several warnings are buzzing and bleeping like crazy. It is a symphony of bad luck.  
Spinning out of control, the ship groans like a wounded animal when a fourth hit grazes it and shudders when it comes close enough to get sucked in by a nearby planet's gravitational pull.

“We're going down.” Din grits out, holding on to the controls and trying to navigate the ship mostly by pure force of will. He pushes the button that connects his voice to the cargo area to warn Hauroko. “We're going down. Buckle up.”

Corin stumbles over to secure the child, barely able to keep his balance, struggling to attach the buckles.

“Hurry.” Din grits out, flames flaring up around the ship as they enter much, much too fast into the atmosphere, trying to pull back on the controls and break their fall. “Hurry!”

“I'm trying!” Corin snaps, losing the grip on a buckle as the ship shakes violently, having to grab on to the chair to keep from losing his balance for a moment before trying again. 

The heat of the flames having engulfed the ship is making the cockpit uncomfortably warm. The Razor Crest is vibrating due to the speed it is moving at and they are racing towards a ground they cannot see through the blaze surrounding them.

The child looks up at him with a scared coo, ears low and lower lip trembling.  
“It's okay...” Corin whispers in a breathless effort to reassure him. “It's going to be okay.” He slides the final buckle into place, securing the child, strokes the fuzzy head as a final comforting gesture, then turns to stumble back to his own seat.  
He manages to reach out and take a hold of the backrest but not much more before the ship slams into the ground.

The sound, the impact, it's like an implosion turning into an explosion. The transparisteel shatters, a shower of glittering shards, the control panel cracks, metal twists, fire comes racing in like water and everything not buckled down goes flying towards the front.

Corin doesn't have time to feel fear. One moment he's by the chair, the next he can't breathe and he's yanked towards the fire and shards. It happens so fast.

The next thing Corin registers is hovering mid-air, over the control panel, the fire and shards hitting an invisible wall in front of him. Staring at what he can't believe he's seeing, floating like some underwater creature, Corin draws a trembling breath. He can hear the roar of the flames, can see them pushing against the invisible barrier, but then he's gently pulled backwards and his feet touches ground.  
There is just enough time for him to see the child having one little hand pointing towards the front, keeping the flames at bay, and the other towards Corin. It is trembling under the strain and the second Corin is standing on his own, it moves the other hand to join the other and pushes the flames back.

Glancing over, Corin sees Din is leaning back in his seat, breathing hard, t-visor locked on the flames in front of him. He seems shaken, but unharmed. “You okay?” Corin asks.

Din nods, lifting his hands to unbuckle himself, but his hands are trembling slightly. “Go check on Hauroko. Get all the weapons you can carry. We don't have much time. They'll be coming after us.”  
When Din gets out of his seat and quickly moves away from the battered front, the child's hands drop and it slumps slightly into its blanket with a tired sound. The shards fall to the floor, but the fire remains outside the ship and is already dying down without any friction feeding it.

Corin hesitates, but Din is already unbuckling the child and orders; “Go.”

Starting to life, Corin tries to open the door to the cargo area, finds that it is jammed and has to use raw muscle force to get an opening just big enough for him to squeeze through.

The cargo area is a complete mess. Sparks are flying from snapped or overloaded wiring, there is a small fire in the box next to the cargo door and there are objects scattered all over the place.

Hauroko appears unconscious where she's buckled up in the fold-down seat. Moving over to check on her, Corin sees her arm is clearly broken and there is a deep cut bleeding profusely by her hairline over her left eyebrow. Cursing softly, he cups her face between his hands. “Hauroko. I need you to wake up.”

Finally a hint of good luck as she groans softly and her eyelashes flutter.

“We have to move.” Corin explains, starting to unbuckle her, trying to be mindful of her injuries, knowing there could be far more that were hidden. “They're coming. They found us. I'm sorry, I know this hurts, but we really have to go.”

-

Getting the guns and grenades is easy. Getting Hauroko up on her feet is more of a challenge, but nothing compared to getting her up and into the cockpit. Once back up there, he lowers her into his seat before turning to Din, about to speak, but sees what has the Mandalorian merely standing there; outside the Razor Crest, on barren plains where nothing but rocks and dead trees appears to be growing, three drop ships have already landed and Troopers are unloading.

Cursing quietly, Din turns abruptly, looks from Corin to Hauroko, then steps over to the bleeding and stunned woman and places the child on her lap. “You two: stay here.”

She automatically wraps her working arm around the child, pulls it close and nods, too dazed and in too much pain to do much else.

Din then turns to Corin, grabs the Amban sniper rifle from him. “You up for this?”

Corin nods. He's scared, his hands are shaking, he knows this is a fight where the odds are agonizingly against them, but he doesn't hesitate. He fastens two more blasters to himself, two vibroblades, several grenades and ends up with a DLT-19 heavy blaster rifle in his hands.

The preparation doesn't take more than a minute, but in that time there is a frightful amount of Storm and Death Troopers advancing on the Razor Crest. The ship has its belly and most of its nose buried in what that appears to be orange clay, the back-end of the ship is up in the air, but the missing transparisteel in front gives them a way out. Another piece of good luck amidst the bad.

Corin is about to step forward when Din grabs his upper arm and yanks him back, yanks him close, then leans over, rests his Beskar helmet against Corin's forehead and moves his right hand up to curl behind Corin's neck in a touch that is a mix between gentle and possessive.  
“Keep your head down. Don't take any chances. Don't you dare die on me, _ner kar'ta_. You hear me? Whatever happens, if there is an opening, you and the child, you make a run for it. Understand?”

“Not without you.” Corin objects with a faint tremor in his voice.

The grip on Corin's neck tightens slightly. “You see an opening, you run.” There is no tremor in Din's voice. It's as hard as Beskar. “You take the kid and you run. Don't look back. Run.”

Corin wants to object again, but Din quickly releases him and walks towards the ruined front of the ship.  
“I need you to lay down some cover fire. I'll head up and attack from above.” 

Clenching his jaw, Corin follows him and shifts his grip anxiously on the blaster rifle. “Roger that.”

He kneels down behind the broken and twisted control panel, resting the barrel of the DLT-19 on top of it, pointing out towards the small army of Troopers warily marching towards them. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Looking at the familiar armor he is aiming at, the mask he'd seen as his own reflection for so many years, Corin shoves all thoughts except protecting his family away and he squeezes the trigger.

It's like kicking a Hrelan hive. The Troopers all start to scatter, diving to the ground and behind whatever cover they can find, and in those few seconds before they start to return fire; Din jumps out of the ship, kicks off from the ground and his jetpack takes him up into the sky while he fires his own blaster at them. After that, it is violent chaos everywhere.

Countless blaster shots, the occasional flare of flames, grenade explosions, shouts and screams, it is Corin's past coming screaming back to life and he goes numb as he forces himself to keep shooting. He doesn't think. He doesn't feel. He just acts. He has a mission and that is all that matters. He aims and he shoots at what seems like a never ending sea of Trooper armor out there.

The Razor Crest is downed, but she provides excellent cover for him. However, when a random shot flies by him and burns into the floor a little too close to where Hauroko is sitting with the child, Corin knows he can't stay where he is. He has to draw the attack away from them, like Din is doing up in the air.  
“I'm heading out.” Corin informs Hauroko. “I'm going to try to draw their fire away from the ship. You okay?” He glances back at her, sees her give another pained nod and hopes she'll be able to hang on until good luck strikes and they somehow get out of this situation.

Drawing a deep breath, holding his rifle even harder, Corin then rolls over the control panel and out the front of the Razor Crest. Landing in a crouch, placing one knee on the ground, he fires off several shots that takes down the closest Troopers before being forced to scramble away at the return fire. He feels one blaster shot bounce off his pauldron half a second before he slides to safety behind a large rock.

-

Peeking out at the battlefield, Corin sees Din. He flies above them, firing blasters, raining down fire with his vambrace, swooping down and cutting them with his blades, taking lives and spilling blood like an avenging angel of death. Corin had almost gotten used to watching the Mandalorian hold the child with such gentle hands, knows himself how sweet that touch can be, but there is nothing gentle or sweet about Din now.

And, yet, there is still a terrifying beauty to it, to him.

Corin is so mesmerized he only remembers to duck back when a blaster shot nearly gives him a new hair cut and the next time he pokes his head out, it is to fire his blaster rifle at his targets and not gawk at Din.  
He knocks down a couple of Death Troopers, relieved to see the Troopers have their focus on either him or Din, no one is shooting at the Razor Crest anymore. Good. 

It's stupid, but for a second; Corin has hope. He should know better. Hope has never brought him anything but pain. And when he leans out to fire another burst at the Troopers, Corin is painfully reminded of that fact. More bad luck arrives.

In the sky, above Din, Corin sees five more ships coming down towards the planet's surface. One of them wears old Imperial markings, the other four are run-down and shabby looking and screams 'mercenaries'.  
Swallowing hard, Corin feels crushing despair flood over him. If Din had been close enough, he would have shouted for him to grab the child and fly away. He knows Moff Gideon will execute him and Hauroko, as Storm Trooper defectors that is a given, but at least Din and the child would have had a chance. However, Din is too far away, he can't hear Corin, not even if he shouts.

Staying out of cover longer to take down more Troopers each time, Corin feels one shot bounce off his breastplate and later another grazes him just over his hip and leaves a burning cut in its wake that is soon leaking blood down his thigh. But it is pointless.  
They'd struggle hard to overcome the numbers already there, but now the ships are landing and more are entering the battle on Gideon's side. 

Corin grunts as a shot grazes him below his right pauldron, tearing his shirt but missing his arm, and when he ducks back behind the rock again and glances over at the ship; he sees Hauroko. Mostly hidden as she is crouching behind the control panel, but she can see what is happening outside. He can see she is realizing that they are outnumbered and need help.

Leaning against the rock, Corin meets her gaze and gives her new orders through gestures. 'Stay low, be ready, distraction, you and child, out of the ship, use stealth, run, seek, Mandalorians'.

Hauroko shakes her head.

Corin gives a sharp gesture of 'go', then leans out and throws every grenade he has at the Troopers before he steps fully out from behind the rock and starts firing with his rifle into the mess of flames, fragments and smoke.

The counter fire is insane, a myriad of shots comes flying through the temporary smoke blanket that is already lifting, Corin grunts again as a couple bounces off his armor, knocking him back a step, but in the corner of his eyes he sees the shadow of Hauroko sneaking along the outside of the Razor Crest and away from the battle.

Again he does the mistake of feeling a flicker of hope and again bad luck punishes him for it.

The smoke lifts just in time for Corin to see Din getting shot out of the sky by some fierce weapon and raw shock combined with pure dread makes him take an automatic step forward as if Corin could get through an entire battalion of Troopers and mercenaries to get to him, but heavy blaster fire forces him to duck behind the rock again.

Breathing hard, staring at the ground, unable to shake the image of Din getting hit, twisting mid-air before falling, Corin starts to tremble and struggles not to scream.  
Din was alive. He had to be. People like him didn't die, remember? 

A faint thump of something landing alerts Corin to danger and he sees a grenade rolling to a halt on the ground to his left, forcing him to run in the opposite direction and he has to leap over the second grenade that lands in his path as he flees. While he isn't ripped apart by the explosions behind him; he feels the shockwave like a Death Star to his back before everything goes black.

-

Waking up with a faint groan, every part of his body hurts, Corin needs several seconds to remember who he is and what had happened. Once he does, he sits up with a start from where he's lying on the floor and looks around. He's in a prison cell, a small gray room with no windows and only a closed hatch in the closed door, a narrow bed by the wall and a small toilet in the corner of the room. The very definition of bad luck.

Glancing down at himself, Corin slowly lifts his hands and touches his chest, unable to believe that his armor is gone, replaced with a horribly familiar black undersuit. They have taken his Beskar.

Corin drops his hands and closes his eyes hard, takes all his fear and grief and rage and pushes it all down into his belly. Din is alive. Corin is alive and he has to stay alive to meet Din again.

They come for him a couple of hours later. Big, tough Storm Troopers in battered armor, who are looking for something, someone, to unleash their anger on. They don't expect Corin to fight back and it costs them quite a lot of pain.  
He is brought out for interrogation. An officer demands that Corin tell him where the Asset is. 

“I don't know.” Corin spits out along with the blood in his mouth. It's not a lie. He can only assume since they want to know that Hauroko has managed to escape and have gone into hiding with the child. Not that he'd tell them even if he did know.

When they don't get a different answer out of him, no matter how they ask, how often they ask, they hurt him. They hurt him a lot.  
They could actually teach Nedar a thing or two.

At one point, a Death Trooper who had just strapped Corin's arms to the interrogation chair, reaches up and grabs his jaw with one big paw of a hand and he studies Corin's face. “You look different from what I expected.” There is a flicker of interest in his eyes that Corin recognizes. “You're-”

Corin puts all of his might behind the devastating kick he parks between the guy's legs.

They keep dragging him out of his cell, keep asking the same question, keep hurting him.

- _Survive._ Corin tells himself. He fights back when he can, he tries to escape twice and nearly makes it the second time. - _Just stay alive._ He refuses to break. His family needs him.

On the third day, his tormentors are noticeably frustrated. They had not expected him to fight back and they had most definitely not expected him to be this stubborn. One officer in particular really unleashes his anger on Corin.

In the moments between the hurting, when he's just left in his cell to hurt, he thinks about the phrase 'ner kar'ta' and tries to remember what the word means. He knows he saw it in the translator, he just can't remember... But he remembers Din's kindness and the child's laugh. They're alive and he's going to get back to them somehow. 'Ner kar'ta'... What does it mean? 

On the fourth day, lying on the uncomfortable bed, trying to ignore the ache in his body, with hunger gnawing at him, Corin is going over the memory of how the child had offered him food after saving his life. So sweet and trusting and kind, even after being in the hands of the Empire.  
When they come to drag Corin to his daily interrogation, he only breaks the nose of one of them this time. He's too exhausted to do much more. _Survive._ His inner voice whispers.

They strap him down to the chair and Corin braces himself for more pain. What he doesn't expect is them leaving. It is followed by a moment of silence, then careful and measured footsteps. 

Glancing over at the door, Corin is shocked to see Moff Gideon entering the room.

“CT-113.” Gideon greets him in a pleasant voice. He walks over and pulls out a chair for him to sit down next to Corin, adjusting his cloak and getting comfortable. He looks like someone who has entered a business meeting. He even gives Corin a faint smile. “We meet again.”

Corin swallows hard, slowly turns his gaze up to stare at the ceiling and tries not to show his fear.

“I hear you have been most unwilling to reveal the location of my property.” Gideon talks as if he is not bothered by this fact at all. “I spoke to your former commanding officers when we learned of your identity. They said you were weak. That you would break.” The Moff smiles, but there is nothing reassuring about it, and he leans a little forward, a little closer to Corin. “I think they're wrong. I think you're strong, CT-113. Far stronger than they can imagine.” He leans back again. “But I also know what fuels that particular kind of strength: Belief. Belief in that you will find a way out of here. Belief that your friends will come for you. Belief that this is only temporary, not the end.” Gideon watches him, calm and cold, and sticks his chin out slightly. “I'm here to tell you that is wrong.”

-

“I'm sure you expected your Mandalorian to survive getting shot out of the sky. And he did.” Gideon is completely devoid of any emotion. “He was injured, but alive. Din Djarin was handed over to Greef Karga for breaking his contract with them. They tried to make him reveal where my property was, but like you, he refused. I was there when they shot him and let me tell you, I have never seen a man fight harder than him trying to prevent them from taking his helmet off. It's a shame he chose to be on the wrong side.”

Corin can't breathe. Can't believe it. It can't be true. IT'S NOT TRUE! Din is not dead. NO!

“As for your other friends, the _traitors_ , while we were taking care of your vessel, I sent my other ships to deal with them. They bombed every inch of that island of yours. It's gone.”

Shutting his eyes tight, biting back an agonized sound, Corin shakes with quiet grief and despair.

“And I'm afraid that your lack of cooperation has made my soldiers talk amongst themselves and right now you're causing me more harm than any potential usefulness you may have. So I have decided to have you publicly executed. To set an example of what happens to people who betray me.” Gideon gets up from his chair. “You father's shame will be complete when his son dies a traitor's death. His big fear was that you'd grow up to become a nobody, not even he dared to consider you'd sink this low. Goodbye, CT-113.”

They drag Corin back to his cell and leaves him there. Corin doesn't fight them. He's too numb.

Din is... dead? It seems impossible. But there was something about the tone of Gideon's voice when he'd used Din's actual name and how he'd fought against them removing his helmet. And the island. How did he know about the island? Corin knew in the marrow of his bones that the Moff had not been lying about the island. It was gone. Blown up, along with everything and everyone on it.

The only thing Gideon didn't know was the location of the child. Hauroko would find the Mandalorians and they would take in Din Djarin's Foundling. They will never let that child fall into Gideon's hands. The child is safe. He wonders if it will remember him as it grows up...

Corin spends the night going over every moment with Din he can remember from the first time he'd met Din and the child, turning them over in his mind like precious gems, torn between despair at never experiencing it again and feeling so damn lucky he actually got to experience it at all. After a lifetime of nothing but bad luck, Corin should be content he was allowed some happiness before his death. Because he had been happy. Yeah. Din and the child, they made him happy.

'Ner kar'ta'... what did it mean?

In the morning, the door opens and something is dropped to the floor inside of it.  
“Put it on.” A Storm Trooper orders, clear distaste in his words.

With a pained grunt, his bruised and battered body objecting, Corin sits up and looks down at what he quickly realizes is Storm Trooper armor, sans helmet. He shakes his head. “No.”

They make him wear the armor, forces him into it despite his fierce struggling, and he keeps on fighting against them even as they drag him through the hallway towards his end.

Pushed up some stairs, Corin finds himself pulled out on what looks like kind of a stage and there are rows upon rows of Storm Troopers lined up in front of it; their visors all aimed at him.

Absolute dread hits Corin hard, he doesn't want to die, he tugs and squirms desperately to free himself, but the two Troopers restraining him merely hold on while a long list of charges are read up by some random Death Trooper standing on the edge of the stage.

Gulping for air, trembling hard, Corin is shoved down on his knees and one of the Troopers grabs his hair and yanks his head up, holding him still as the Death Trooper continues reading.  
He looks up at the sky, so scared he's feeling dizzy, but he reaches for the one thing he knows can give him strength; he remembers Din. He remembers the kindness and the breathless amount of trust Din had in him. 

_Because you belong with us._

_Family is more than blood._

'Ner kar'ta'... Suddenly Corin remembers, he knows what the words mean; _my heart._

The realization makes him close his eyes again, knowing what he had been so sure was just a misunderstanding had not been wishful thinking on Corin's part. Din cared. Din _cared_!  
He had just been waiting for Corin to catch up and now it is too late.

Corin barely feels the tears trailing down his face, too broken, and the voice whispering for him to survive goes quiet.

He feels the blaster to the back of his head and he opens his eyes to stare out at the ocean of Storm Troopers in front of him as the Death Trooper wraps up the charges set against him. He had followed Din wherever he went after he'd saved Corin's life. It feels right that he'll follow him into death as well.

And despite the fear and pain he is feeling now, Corin wouldn't change a thing. He wouldn't trade a single moment with Din and the child and the love Corin feels for them for twenty more years of life. They were worth it.  
He feels very lucky that he got to meet them. So very lucky. 

There is a flash of red as the blaster is fired.

-

Liita flicks a couple of switches on the ship's control panel as the first blaster shots bounces off its armor, before she glances over at Cara in the co-pilot seat. “Ready?”

Cara nods and gets up from her seat to join the others.

Liita looks back at where Paz and Raga are standing. “Ready?”

The two Mandalorians nods, weapons and jetpacks merely waiting to be activated.

“Good luck.” Liita says into the communication headset, pushing the button that will open the cargo door of the ship. “And be quick. If that Destroyer shows up, I'm going to have to make a run for it.” She knows her ship's weapons wouldn't even put a dent in the Star Destroyer's armor. And they had seen the damage even the smaller imperial ships could do based on how little was left of the island.

“We'll be back before you know it.” Cara grins, holding up her heavy blaster rifle. “We're just here to grab him, nothing else.”

“Then go.” Liita orders, activating the guns and taking care of some of the threats on the ground.

Paz jumps first, followed by Raga holding on to Cara, and the three flies directly at the target.

Hovering uneasily over the building, Liita watches the radar warily and even then has to cast glances up at the sky. The last they'd heard of the Star Destroyer, it wasn't far from here, Moff Gideon preferred to have it within range, but they had not actually seen it when they approached the planet. Still, she decided to take no chances. It was how Liita had survived for so long. Maybe if Din had been a little more careful, he wouldn't have...

The ship shakes as a direct hit from a heavy weapon grazes the engine and Liita feels a flare of anger. Bad enough they were killing off people for no good reason, they also wanted to bring down her ship? The one she had built from scrap and spent countless hours on?  
A well-aimed lasershot deals with the idiot who had fired the shot.  
Pressing the communication device, activating it, Liita grumbles; “What is taking you so long?”

“There was a slightly larger audience than we anticipated.” Cara snaps back. “Give us two minutes.”

Switching off the microphone, Liita takes out her frustration on some souls trying to shoot at her again and sends them fleeing for their lives with a trail of lasershots.

True to her word, two minutes later, Cara and the others emerge from the building, running down the stairs until the jetpacks can lift them up into the sky.  
They are followed and a shower of blaster shots are soon chasing after them.

“Get out of the way.” Liita warns over the communication net.

Paz and Raga split up and clears out of the path of the ship's weapons that instantly starts firing at their pursuers. They end up on separate sides of Liita's ship, Raga being lucky enough to be able to enter through the open door right away with Cara, while Paz has to swoop under the belly of the ship to get to the opening with his cargo.  
The second Paz is inside, he slams the button to close the door and shouts; “GO!”

Liita does not hesitate. She shifts from weapons to control and speed, and half a second later they are fleeing from the mess they have just stirred up.

“Any sight of him?” Cara asks, stumbling forward to take her place in the pilot seat. 

Liita shakes her head, focused on steering and casting an occasional glance at the radar. “Nothing yet. I'm thinking our dear traitor was right. Moff Gideon is not here.”

There is a faint groan in the back as Paz helps him stand up, but it is not long before Din shoves him away and looks from one to the other and asks; “Where are they?” His armor and helmet are dirty, there is blood on his breastplate, his limbs are shaking with exhaustion, but there is determination in his voice.

Liita turns the ship to aim for the sky and space. This was the part she had warned them she wouldn't be doing. She'd fly the ship, she'd help them save him, but they were the ones who had to explain things to him.

“The child is safe.” Raga reassures him. “We got contacted by someone called Hauroko, who claimed she had been told to seek us out with this child. Paz agreed to meet her and of course he recognized your Foundling.”

Din nods, sags a little and actually allows Paz to reach out and support him. Otherwise he probably would have collapsed. “He's safe?”

Raga nods. “The child is at the Covert.”

Din waits for her to continue, but when she doesn't, he tenses up again. “Corin?”

There is a moment of hesitation before Raga tells him the truth. “Moff Gideon ordered for him to be executed. We...”

This time not even Paz can prevent Din from crashing to his knees with an agonized sound of grief.

Unable to stand the tension, Liita reaches for the communication system, pushes in the code and activates the channel. “This is Liita. We got him. What's your status?”

“Kind of busy right now! Talk later!” Kiergan's voice shouts before the channel goes quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I missed you." by the ever incredible deity that is Cacodaemonia, a moment of love that brought comfort to them both in the harsh times that followed...
> 
> [ ](https://imgbb.com/)  
> 


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a flash of red as the blaster is fired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEHOLD! GLORIOUS ART TO SOOTHE THE WOUNDS OF CHAPTER 18!  
> Cacodaemonia captures Din's grief to such perfection that I have no words to give it the praise it deserves. The utter agony and defeat, how nothing else matters and how the world has no color anymore now that he no longer has Corin by his side...
> 
> And Zetomato portrays Corin's moment of acceptance with such perfection that there really are no words to give it its due praise either. The ruffled state of him, the tears, the slight smile as he knows that whatever happens, nothing can change the fact that Din loved him.
> 
> [](https://imgbb.com/)  
>    
> 

[](https://imgbb.com/)

There is a flash of red as the blaster is fired.

Corin feels a brief jab of pain as the fingers in his hair tighten and yank, but then they merely slide through the locks like a parody of a caress and there is a thump as his executioner falls behind him.

For a moment there is a deafening silence where nobody moves, then chaos erupts.

Corin watches with a numb, kind of detached, curiosity as a Storm Trooper on the right flank turns his blaster away from the stage he had just shot at and starts shooting at the Troopers. Then a Storm Trooper on the left flank does the same. It causes the crowd of Storm Troopers between them to act like a stampeding herd of Nerfs who have no idea which direction to choose.  
“Kind of busy right now! Talk later!” A familiar voice says from the right flank before the Storm Trooper continues to shoot, and duck as some are now starting to shoot back.

Corin blinks, the haze slowly lifting from his mind as he recognizes the voice; Kiergan. He looks to the left, sees the other Trooper jumping around there and somehow knows it is Leave-it. No one else would be that theatrical. They were alive? How? Moff Gideon has said...

His confusion is then made even worse as a handful of Death Troopers are suddenly flung up into the air in the back of the crowd. Surging up in an upright position after sending the Death Troopers flying; Mose rolls over to lash out with his tail at new targets.

Not dead. They're not dead! Kiergan, Leave-it, Mose, they're alive.

Exhaling a choked laugh, Corin feels so relieved. So very, very relieved. And then, like a flip of a switch, he feels nothing but pure rage.

Moff Gideon had lied. He had lied and like an IDIOT, Corin had believed him.

Turning his head, he sees the Storm Troopers on the stage with him are busy shooting at Kiergan and Leave-it. Corin's gaze then falls to the blaster which had been pressed to his head and is now lying on the ground next to him after his executioner had dropped it. He reaches out and claims it, feels the weight of it in his hand. Fueled by burning fury, he turns and shoots down the three Troopers on the stage with him.

Corin gets up on his feet as they fall and that is when he sees Moff Gideon is walking up the stairs to the stage, clearly determined to do his own dirty work for once, his cold stare on Corin and his mouth a tight line of anger.  
Good. Corin is pretty damn angry too,

The Moff, as he steps up on the stage, activates in his hand what looks like a pitch black lightsaber. Corin saw Darth Vader wield his red lightsaber once. He knows how powerful those weapons are.  
Bringing the blaster up with a tight, two-handed grip, Corin clenches his jaw hard and fires shot after shot after shot at Gideon, who merely walks towards him and uses the saber to flick them away like they were nothing.

Any other day, the sight would have been terrifying to Corin, but now he's too angry to care. He merely screams in frustration, presses the trigger harder as if that will make a difference, needing to hurt the man who made him think they were all dead. No. Not hurt. He wants to kill him.

So when the blaster suddenly fizzles, malfunctions, Corin slaps it a couple of times instead of panicking, before simply tossing it away when that doesn't make it work. Fine. He moves towards the approaching Gideon, Corin will just have to use his own two hands. 

That is when a Storm Trooper suddenly steps in front of Corin and starts shooting at Gideon.  
“Go!” Hauroko's voice comes from under the helmet. “Run!”

“Out of my way!” Corin snarls, blind with undiluted fury. “I'm going to kill him!”

Hauroko's helmet turns slightly to look at him, then she suddenly shoves Corin hard and sends him flailing off the stage.

For a moment the vertigo of falling scrambles Corin's brain and he only recovers when he is caught by arms instead of slamming into the ground. The abrupt halt forces a grunt out of his lungs and it takes a full second for him to accept who had just caught him, with one arm behind his back and one under his knees, but before he can react to the absurd situation; Mose removes the one under his knees and lets him drop to his feet while supporting his back.

“Move.” The Hutt orders, shifts his hand away from Corin's back to grab his wrist and then yanks him along as he plows forward into the crowd of still panicking Troopers trying to flee.

The confusion has forced the rage to give a little, but Corin still manages to glance back at where Hauroko is firing in vain at Gideon and feels a seething hatred he's never experienced before.  
Moff Gideon is going to pay. Corin is going to kill that man even if it is the last thing he will ever do.

Mose is moving fast for his size, but his size also makes him vulnerable. The armor on his chest gives him some protection, but feeling the Hutt flinch when a blaster shot pierces the thick skin and burrows into his left shoulder makes Corin focus on Mose instead of his future revenge.  
Despite the injury, Mose doesn't slow down, keeps dragging him along, so Corin rams his elbow into a random Storm Troopers helmet and manages to steal his blaster and uses it to take down the ones he sees aiming at the Hutt.

-

Once they reach the back of the crowd, Mose finally slows down and Corin is about to shoot a Storm Trooper heading towards them, but the Trooper quickly pulls his helmet off and reveals himself to be Kiergan.

“Now!” Mose orders.

Kiergan pulls out a strange looking weapon and fires a ball of light into the sky.

Corin looks back at the stage, sees Hauroko backing up while continuing to shoot at Gideon as he continues to advance, and he sees the same kind of rage he is feeling in her movements. While Gideon had lied about killing Corin's allies, he had made her watch him killing her squad.  
A powerful gust of wind alerts Corin to the ship suddenly coming down above them. It opens its cargo door and lowers itself until the ramp almost touches ground.

“Go!” Kiergan shouts at Mose and Corin, then turns to look back at the stage. “Leave-it, she's not coming.” There is a pause. “Roger that.” 

Mose is making his way up the ramp, still refusing to let go of Corin, which means Corin only catches the glimpse of Leave-it running full speed at Gideon from behind, how he avoids the dark saber lashing out by sliding on his back between the man's legs, get back up and shoot forward to ram his shoulder into Hauroko's stomach and carrying her along as she automatically folds over him at the impact.

“Hurry up!” Another familiar voice shouts and Corin stumbles into the ship to see Zev'sonya sitting in the pilot seat with a tense look on her face. She pushes her communication set. “Arsu and Azizos, get ready. Once you trigger those explosions, you get out of there.”

Corin, Mose and Kiergan are inside when Leave-it comes trotting with a furious Hauroko over his shoulder and heads up the ramp. Most of the Storm Troopers and Death Troopers have fled what they thinks is some big attack by now, but some still linger and are trying to regroup to counter-attack. “We're all in!” Kiergan shouts.

“Wait!” A voice calls out and to their surprise, two unfamiliar Storm Troopers comes running towards the ship without any weapons in their hands. “Wait. Can we...? We...” They pause by the start of the ramp, breathless and anxious, looking around. “Can we come too?”

After a moment of hesitation, Kiergan waves for them to get on board, but mutters to Leave-it and Hauroko; “Keep an eye on them.” He is about to close the door and the ship is rising from the ground when another voice calls out.  
“Stop!” A lone Storm Trooper comes running with a faint limp. “Please. I wanna go too! Please...”

By then the ship is almost too high, but Kiergan drops to his stomach and reaches down for the Trooper to grab his hand. Moments later, the Trooper is dragged on board and the door closes.

Zev'sonya presses the communication button again. “Arsu, Azizos, do it. Now!” Before setting the ship to race towards the sky and space.

Recognizing the twins' names, Corin stumbles over next to Hauroko, realizing what it means but needing it confirmed. “The child...?”

“With the Mandalorians.” Hauroko replies quietly. “Paz and Raga brought him to their headquarters. He's safe.”

Relief washes over Corin and he nods. His mind is still spinning with what had just happened. He can still feel the grip on his hair and the threat of the blaster to his head. But most of all, he is too terrified to ask about the one person missing. “Gideon said he bombed the island...”

“He did.” Zev'sonya replies in a tense voice, increasing the speed further and paying close attention to the radar as they are approaching space. “But he didn't know we were not on it.”

When they enter the darkness, Corin's relief is quickly replaced with dread as he sees the massive Star Destroyer looming there. He inhales sharply, expecting to see it turn to either give chase or to shoot them down, instead he sees several explosions run along its sides and a small ship detaching under its belly and before hyperjumping away.

Zev'sonya grins widely and slams their ship into a high-speed escape. “They did it. Those crazy Mandos actually did it. It won't be enough to bring it down, but it should buy us enough time to get outo of here.”

The ship shakes as it picks up speed and the stars becomes a blurry mess outside of the transparisteel in the front. Corin has a million questions and picks on at random. “Where are we going?”

Zev'sonya glances back at him over her shoulder and her grin widens even more. “Where do you think? To meet up with Din and the others, of course. Can't have you love-Shyyyos separated, can we?”

It's like she just rammed a fist into Corin's belly. He can't breathe. He stumbles back a step, tries to get air into his lungs but can't. Din is alive? Din is alive. Din is alive and they are going to where he is? Din is alive! A pained sound tears its way up Corin's throat, his skin feels too warm and he's dizzy. This was beyond good luck... 

“You alright?” Leave-it asks, worried, reaching out to grab his upper arm to support him.

“Don't touch me!” Corin snaps, slapping his hand away and scuttles several steps backwards, away from all the Storm Troopers, until he bumps into a wall and leans heavily against it.  
Din is alive. He's not dead. Gideon had lied. It's beyond relief. It's too much. He can't... Too much...

Something pushes down lightly on Corin's hair and he snaps his gaze up, ready to scream at them to not touch him, but when he sees it is Mose giving him a couple of awkward pats on his head with an even more awkward look on his face, it almost makes him smile and a little of the tension eases.  
Lowering his head again, trying to breathe, Corin repeats it to himself, what he can hardly believe; Din is alive.

-

The journey passes quickly and quietly as it seems like bad luck is done with them for now. Zev'sonya stays in her pilot seat, the Storm Troopers are gathered in the middle, while Mose and Corin linger closer to the tailend of the ship.

It takes some time for Corin to just to be able to breathe normally again, his chest hurts on the inside and yet none of his physical injuries registers, so it is only a short while before they land that he realizes that Mose is still bleeding and offers to at least wrap the injury.  
The Hutt rumbles annoyed and tells him to mind his own business. Corin wraps it anyways.

But when the ship touches ground on some desolate grass plains and the door opens to lower the ramp and everyone waits for him to exit first; Corin can't make his legs work. He just stands there in the doorway, paralyzed, until Zev'sonya places a gentle hand on his shoulder and whispers; “Go.”

Stepping down the ramp, Corin looks up as he hears and soon sees a second ship coming down to land nearby. He pauses once he's standing on solid ground, waiting. Corin can see Liita through the transparisteel. He flinches when the ship hisses after it has settled and the cargo door opens.

Inch by inch, Beskar is revealed, wrapped around a shape Corin knows only too well and Din doesn't even wait for the ramp to fully touch ground before he's moving forward and towards Corin.

Corin takes a couple of steps forward as well, still unable to believe Din is alive and actually there, but he can also see how the Mandalorian is covered with dirt and blood and knows it is no dream. 

He should never have believed Gideon. How could he have been so stupid? Din can't die unless he decides to. He doesn't break and fail like Corin. He's dirty and bloody but whole. Corin stands here in a Storm Trooper armor. Din should never have placed his trust in him...

The second Din steps in front of him, Corin's legs give in, sending him crashing to his knees, and he can't look at the Mandalorian, too ashamed. “I'm sorry...” Corin chokes out, feeling his eyes burning with humiliation. “They took it.” He hangs his head low, waiting for the disappointment in Din's voice at Corin's confession. “The Beskar. It's gone.”

He does not expect Din dropping to his knees as well and merely gathering Corin up in a crushing hug with something that sounds like a shivering breath. Confused, Corin lifts a weak hand and gently touches Din's arm, almost in a comforting gesture, especially as he feels that the entire man is now shivering.

“They took my Beskar.” Corin mumbles again, in case Din hadn't heard. The shame of it, knowing he has now also failed the one person who made him want to be better than who he had been, it hurts far more than what Gideon's goons had put him through. Din had honored him with such a precious gift, his family had too, and Corin had failed to keep the Beskar safe. That's not bad luck. It's just Corin being useless and weak.

Din's hands move up to touch Corin's face briefly, then they pull away only for the Mandalorian to tug off his gloves with almost angry movements before the bare hands return to gently cup his face and making him look up at the t-visor.  
“Are you okay?” Din's voice sounds... strange.

Corin nods, filled with shame and defeat. A failure, just like his father had always claimed.

Din pulls him in again, hugging him hard, completely unfazed by the fact that he's touching the white armor. “That's all that matters. You. I thought I had lost you.” His voice is trembling again, there is pain there.

Corin digs his own fingers into Din's under-armor. “I'm sorry...” He offers miserably into Din's chest. “I'm so sorry.”

“Don't be.” Din responds, leaning into him as well, his fingers trailing through Corin's hair until his hand cups his head while his other hand rests on his upper back. “You're here. That's all that matters. _You_ are here.”

And for some bizarre reason, hearing those words, hearing no anger or disappointment in Din's voice, just relief, it makes Corin break down crying again and he burrows even closer, merely collapses against the other man.

For a while they are all that exists in the galaxy. For a while, Corin cries and drowns in the overwhelming sense of relief. For a while, Din merely holds him close and makes the occasional sound that anyone listening would recognize as tear-stained.

-

Eventually Corin remembers that they are in the middle of plain view of everyone and he forces the tears away, sitting back with an awkward hiccup, only for Din to cup his face again and pull him into a gentle touch between the Beskar helmet and Corin's forehead.  
The gesture feels so sweet and familiar that Corin closes his eyes and actually smiles a little.

After that, Din slowly gets up on his feet and helps Corin get up as well. Glancing over at the other ship, Corin sees Paz leaning against the doorway, Raga, Cara and Liita standing by the ramp and they're all watching them. Cara grins and winks at them. Paz gives a faint nod.

With one hand on Corin's lower back, Din guides him along as he walks over to the ship where Zev'sonya, Mose and the three Storm Troopers are standing. He glances from one to the other until he comes to halt on the Twi'lek. “Thank you. I'm in your debt.”

Zev'sonya shrugs. “Your contact, but my fellow smuggler. We both failed to pick up on his backstabbing tendencies. I honestly did not expect him to betray us to an Imp. To other smugglers or bounty hunters, sure. But not to an Imp! That's low, even for someone of my kind.”

Din's helmet tilts a little to the side, thoughtfully. “Your kind, huh? You didn't leave Kiergan and Leave-it behind when you got the warning call. Most smugglers would have.”

Zev'sonya lifts an eyebrow. “You think, with the amount of time and energy I've put into making you and your boy boink that I'd risk him getting all mopey over losing two bucketheads? Nope!”

Din merely huffs a laugh, but Corin, too embarrassed to acknowledge her crude words, clears his throat and turns to Kiergan and the others. “Thank you. For saving my neck back there.”

Leave-it gives him a cheeky salute, Hauroko nods, but Kiergan shakes his head. “We owe you our lives. You gave us a way out.” He glances back into the ship where the other three Storm Troopers are waiting. “And more will follow.” Kiergan sends Corin a bright smile. “So, thank _you_.”

“The island...” Corin says, “it's really gone?”

“I'm afraid so.” Kiergan shrugs. “But don't worry. Zev'sonya is going to set us up some other place.”

“I...” Corin starts, but Zev'sonya cuts him off. 

“You're going with Din for a little vacation, handsome. I'll take care of the bucketheads. You can visit them later when you don't look like death re-heated. Anway, you got yourself a ride and we need to leave now. Work to do! Bye bye!” She blows Corin a kiss, then ushers the Storm Troopers back inside the ship, shoving a dawdling Leave-it, and follows herself.

Confused, Corin doesn't react fast enough to stop her, but he does manage to get in the way of Mose and he reaches out a hand at the glaring Hutt. “Come on.”  
Mose rumbles, but he doesn't scare Corin anymore. “Do it, Mose. Or I'm telling everyone we're best friends.”

Mose reaches out and shakes his hand like he's scared he'll catch some bug. “Look after the child.”

Corin nods, surprised at the knowledge that he'll miss the Hutt. “We will. And you; look after yourself as much as you watch over your boss.”

Mose smirks a little at that, then slithers by him and escapes into the ship.

They watch as the ship takes off, Din's hand returning to linger at Corin's back, a warm and reassuring touch.  
“Come on.” Din nods towards Liita, Cara and the Mandalorian.

As they walk over, Corin frowns a little. “What happened, Din? How did the Star Destroyer know where we were? And how did Gideon know about the island?”

Din's fingers twitch a little. “It was my fault...” He replies silently. “One of my contacts, the one who was going to deliver our ship, he sold us out. He went to Gideon and told him everything for the bounty on our heads.” He stops and Corin does the same. Din is the one who hesitates to look up this time. “The only reason I'm alive is because Greef Karga persuaded Gideon to let him use me in gladiator sports instead of executing me. He let me keep the armor to stay alive until he could get a hold of Liita through the device she gave me and arrange for them to rescue us.”

Corin blinks confused. “The Guild guy? Why would he help you get rescued? Wasn't he the one who tried to shoot you and steal the child?”

Din huffs. “Yeah. But apparently, Karga does not like War-Lords telling him what to do and them acting all superior.” He lowers his visor again. “I almost got you and the child killed...”

Corin takes a hold of his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “This only happened because I asked you to deal with my problem.” He is about to apologize when Paz' voice shatters the moment.

“LET'S GO! I'm bored!”

Din exhales a hiss of frustration and Corin almost laughs, despite how exhausted and tense he feels. Some things never change and it feels good.  
They walk over to the ship. Cara flashes them her gorgeous smile, clearly happy on their behalf, Raga gives Din a headbutt verging on harsh but in good spirits, Paz and Din manages to scowl through their visors at each other, while Corin pauses by Liita who is checking a scorch mark on the belly of her ship.  
“Thank you.” He says.

Liita glances up at him, considers, then straightens up to face him. “Without you two, I would still have been back on the red planet and...” She clears her throat, frowns annoyed and looks away. “I like how things are now. And I owe you and him for that.”

Corin is amazed that his presence in a life could improve it for once and he gives her a trying smile. “I'm glad to hear that.”

Liita smiles a little as well, flushing, and gestures for him to move. “Just get on the ship. Let's go before they end up killing each other.”

“Yeah... Just... I need to do something first...” Corin reaches up and starts unbuckling the Storm Trooper armor, dropping piece by piece to the ground until he's just wearing the black undersuit. “Okay. I'm ready.” He doesn't look back.

They all board the ship. Raga orders Paz up in the co-pilot seat to give them all some peace and quiet and he sulkily obeys. Din and Corin sit down next to each other in the belly of the ship and about two minutes after Corin finds himself leaning against Din, who automatically places his arm around him; he's asleep and his battered body is finally allowed to rest a little.

-

Their destination is a planet more or less completely covered by buildings of all kinds of materials.  
When they land near a large building made out of shining steel, Corin is first to line up by the door, not even waiting for Din to get up on his feet. They've both been feeling the aftermath of the rough treatment they'd been receiving, their bodies aching and complaining at every movement now that they allow themselves to feel pain, but Corin is too eager to remember pain.

Once the door opens, he is about halfway down the ramp when he sees the little figure wobbling its way towards him with an eager sound and tiny arms raised in a clear signal to be lifted up.

Corin runs forward and picks up the child to hug it close. He doesn't care that there is about a dozen Mandalorians watching him from the shadows. He rains kisses and raspberries on top of the child's head. He almost feels like crying again. He's missed him so much. 

The child squeals happily, giggling, trying to dodge the raspberries in vain, and doing its very best to reach up and take a hold of Corin's face. Realizing this, Corin lowers his face until the little one gets a hold and is utterly broken when the child leans up to place its forehead to his.  
He only snaps out of it when there is a light touch to his back and the child pulls away to squeal happily up at Din standing there with them. It instantly reaches up for him as well and Din leans down to let it do the same to him.  
The three hold on to each other, finally together again, and Corin wishes the moment could last forever.

It doesn't, of course, but it's not too horrible when it ends as it is only for Raga to show them to their room. The new Covert is situated in the middle of the city this time, but once again hidden below ground under a modest looking clay house. 

“This is yours.” Raga says, opening a door at the end of a long hallway. “Get some rest. You look like you need it. There are some spare clothes in the refresher room. We'll talk tomorrow.”

Corin walks inside with the child in his arms, looking around, while Din pauses in the doorway to face Raga. “Thanks.” Din says, clearly not meaning just the room.

Raga nods, glances over at Corin and the child. “Aliit ori'shya tal'din.” She looks back at Din, nods, and leaves.

Remembering the phrase and what it means, Corin feels an unexpected jolt of joy that the Mandalorian considers the child as Din's family. He grins and looks around the room with the curious child on his arm. When he sees the one large bed and nothing but a child's crib, he sends the little one a dry look. “You didn't break another one, did you?”

The child tilts its head and coos with complete innocence. Corin is not entirely sure he believes him.

Still, he moves over to sit down on the bed with a faint grunt of pain. There is an area by his shoulder blade that is particularly painful. He's fairly certain he has a boot-shaped bruise there. The sound instantly alerts the child and its ears perk up.  
“I'm fine.” Corin reassures the little one. He looks over as Din closes the door before he removes his cloak with a tired sigh. “You okay?” Corin asks. And realizes he should probably leave him alone. The idea of leaving the room hurts, he doesn't want to go, but Din needs proper rest. “Maybe I should... So you could rest without-”

“Don't.” Din says, somehow managing to make the word both soft and hard as iron. “I need you here, okay?”

Corin opens his mouth but no words come out so he merely shuts it again. He nods instead. His heart is beating hard but this time not due to fear or anger. 'Ner kar'ta.' His brain stupidly reminds him.

Din removes most of his Beskar before lying down on the bed, stretching out with a pained grunt of his own and the child squirms free of Corin's hands to crawl over to the Mandalorian.

“Hey, you...” Din murmurs softly, his voice filled with such affection that it makes Corin's heart beat even harder, and Din reaches out to draw a gentle hand over its head. But the little one merely places its hands flat on Din's stomach and its eyes narrows in concentration.

Din flinches, but Corin knows that if he could see the bruises on Din's body; he'd be able to see them disappear under the healing power of the child. He feels an endless amount of gratitude that the little one cares so much for his father. When it lifts its hands and looks back at him with a curious sound, Corin smiles and reaches out to tap its cute nose with a finger. “Thank you. He isn't very good at looking after himself, so we got to do it for him, right?”

Din snorts a laugh for some reason.

Corin sends him a quizzical look but is then surprised by the child taking a hold of his finger and suddenly there is an eerie tingle running up his arm and to every bruise he can feel burning under his skin. Gasping softly, he feels the hurt being soothed away.

When the child releases him, it leans back against Din with a tired sigh and the Mandalorian reaches out a hand to hold it steady. He and Corin exchange glances, silently acknowledging that the child keeps growing stronger and stronger. In the past, one healing would have been enough to tire it.

Corin rolls his shoulders, confirms that his every ache is gone, and struggles with a sense of guilt at seeing the little one already nodding off. “You didn't have to do that, little bean.” He inches up on the bed as well, curls up on his side, facing the Mandalorian and the little one, and together he and Din shifts the child up to rest his fuzzy head on the pillow between them. It is asleep within seconds and Corin watches it snooze peacefully until he starts nodding off himself. By the time Corin fails to fight off sleep, he can hear Din's regular breathing reveal he has already beat him to it, relaxed now that all three of them are finally safe and together again.

-

It is obnoxiously early when Corin wakes up due to the child struggling to its feet and starts wandering down to the end of the bed. Grunting, Corin sits up, drawing a hand through his hair to tame it and yawns as the child is now climbing down to the floor. “Where are you going?”

The child pauses on its march across the floor and coos up at him before it continues towards the door. To Corin's surprise, it waves its hand and the door opens.

“Hey...” Corin objects, getting out of bed as the child wanders out into the hallway and the door closes behind it. When he reaches out to open it, the door won't budge. “Hey!”

Din sits up in bed, sighing annoyed. “What?”

“The kid. He just walked out and closed the door!” Corin tugs at the door again in vain. “Open the door this instant, you little Womp Rat! You hear me?” He keeps trying, but it remains shut. When Din hovers behind him, Corin allows him to reach out and try to open it, but it doesn't budge.

“Open the door, kid. Now.” Din orders. But has no more luck.

Corin draws a deep breath then forces himself calm. “Open the door. Please?” To his relief, the door does open this time and he steps out into the hallway only to find the child already disappearing in another door and Barthor standing there to guard him and the other Foundlings. Seeing Corin and Din, Barthor lifts his hand in a greeting.

Corin awkwardly lifts a hand of his own, then moves back into the room with Din as they are clearly not needed judging by the sound of children laughing and playing.

“You should try to get some more sleep.” Din suggests, walking over to the connecting refresher room. “I need to get cleaned up.”

Corin does crawl back into bed, but he finds himself unable to sleep. Now that he's free of pain and far more rested than he's been in a long while, his brain won't shut up. Suddenly he starts thinking about all kinds of things that he probably shouldn't be thinking about. Don't tempt bad luck. Be satisfied with what is given to you. Don't ask for more. Don't be greedy. Yet... Ner kar'ta.

When Din returns, smelling like soap and temptation, Corin gets all flustered and mumbles that he needs to clean up as well. A week in Gideon's clutches needs to be rinsed off before he'll feel like himself again. But even the hot water can't wash away all the thoughts fluttering around in his head.

And when he returns to the room, savoring wearing clean clothes again, it is only to find that Din hasn't even put his Beskar on. The Mandalorian has merely hoarded all the pillows behind his back and sits quite comfortably on the bed, waiting for him. It's as if he doesn't want to let Corin out of his sight.

Corin stops in the doorway, sees Din look at him and tilt his helmet slightly in a quizzical move, but he merely bites his lower lip thoughtfully, considers and gathers his courage, before he draws a deep breath and walks over to the bed. Climbing into it again, he moves over to slide one arm over Din's waist and rests his head on Din's chest, beyond nervous that he is crossing the line and will get corrected despite certain signs that Din might not mind.

Corin can only breathe again when he feels Din's arm slide around him in turn and his palm moving up and down Corin's back in slow and soothing movements. He savors the feeling for a while, memorizes it in case he his about to mess everything up. Then Corin speaks. “Ner kar'ta. My heart.” 

The hand on his back stops. Corin can hear Din's heart pick up its pace and feel Din's abdominal muscles tense up.

“Did you mean that?” Corin asks quietly. “I mean, I know we were in a bad situation and maybe you didn't... I just...” He swallows hard, barely able to continue. “If you didn't, that's okay. You don't have to...”

Din's hand remain frozen. The entire Mandalorian is frozen. Is he breathing? 

Corin realizes that he has indeed messed things up. He has just messed it up really bad. Oh, why did he have to open his big mouth? Why couldn't he just have kept quiet and been satisfied? Why does he have to confirm time and time again how stupid he is? How right his father was? “I'm sorry. Never mind. I didn't...”

Just as Corin starts to withdraw his arm and is about to make a hasty escape from the room, Din's hand moves up to his neck and holds him still.  
“What...” Din clears his throat. “What if I did mean it?”

Corin blinks, even more confused, then he slowly eases back down again and tries to wrap his mind around the idea. “But... why?”

That seems to break the spell and Din huffs a laugh and his muscles relaxes a little. His hand moves up to slide through Corin's hair in an affectionate gesture before sliding back down to stroking his back again. “Because you're you.”

Corin pushes himself up into a sitting position to look at him, really look at him, not letting something as minor as a Beskar helmet get in the way of reading Din, who seems frozen again now. He scans everything about the Mandalorian, driven by the countless voices in his head that is telling him there is no way Din is telling the truth, but they are all overruled by one simple fact that Corin cannot deny; Din wouldn't lie to him. He called Corin his heart and he meant it.  
It doesn't matter that Corin doesn't understand, cannot think of a single reason why Din would care about him, if he says he does, then he does.

The stupid tears emerge _again_ , its like a dam has been broken and they keep pouring out at all hours now, but Corin blinks them away and moves up to straddle Din's thighs. He hears the man inhale sharply, feels his hands automatically come up to grab a hold of Corin's hips and Corin reaches up and gently cup the Beskar helmet between his hands. “Then I can consider myself the luckiest man in the galaxy.”

“Corin, you don't have to...” Din's hands shifts their grip on Corin's hips, restless and fighting against the urge to pull him close. “This doesn't mean you have to...”

Corin leans forward, closes his eyes, places his forehead to Din's helmet. “But I want to, ner kar'ta.”

Din shudders. He sounds breathless and like he is the lucky one. “Am I? Gar kar'ta?” _Your heart?_

“Until every star in every galaxy has burned out and faded away.” Regardless of luck, if Corin is worthy or not, he'll love Din until the day he dies and then throughout the after-life.

Din pulls him closer, hugs him, slides his hands over his back, his arms, and when Corin wrings off his shirt to offer up his skin and a nervous;”Please?” the Mandalorian eagerly accepts and has Corin squirming under both his caresses and his words of praise and affection.

At one point, Corin makes Din tilt his head and finally, _finally_ gets his mouth on that golden neck. He honestly can't decide on what is better; the taste and the feeling against his lips, salt and heat and the rasp of stubble, or the broken sound Din makes as he goes weak and helpless under it.  
While Din still remains frustratingly dressed, Corin finds satisfaction in that there is a vivid mark on the Mandalorian's neck from his mouth. Corin does manage to sneak a touch at the skin at Din's lower back and Din's bare hands are as skilled as they'd been that night on the Razor Crest.

But the most powerful of it all, is when Corin lies curled up in Din's arms, listening to his heartbeat again, feeling gentle fingers trailing along the curves of the muscles on his back, he hears Din murmur something in Mando'a that Corin doesn't need a translator to understand. It's all in Din's voice.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

_I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this means chapter 2 of Touch and Taste is on its way! ^_^  
> Also, the final chapter of Family and Home...


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning; This is a big'un. Over twice the length and with more art. ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the very long wait. Unfortunately what is happening around in the world decided to affect my family and I suspect you can understand why writing ended up on the backburner for a little while. But here is the final chapter of Family and Home, over twice the usual length and with extra art from the incredibly generous deity that is Cac0daemonia! (I STRONGLY recommend you check out her AO3 and see the art in its full size and beauty!) I cannot thank her enough! And a huge thank you goes out to everyone who has created art and fics and have left me kudos and especially comments. You guys are the life-blood of this fic, not me, so I can but offer you this chapter and hope you will find moments in it that made the wait worth it...!
> 
> PREVIOUSLY, in chapter 19, Cac0daemonia's beautiful depiction of Din and Corin's reunion
> 
> [](https://imgbb.com/)  
>   
> 

Sitting on the bed, one leg pulled up to rest his right elbow on his knee and gnawing absently at a fingernail on his right hand, Corin watches in silence as Din attaches one piece of Beskar after another to himself over the new clothes to emerge presentable to the other Mandalorians.

He's thinking about the words Din had spoken. The softness to them. There had been affection there. He's tempted to say... deep affection. And yet... Could he be that lucky? Really?

Din knows he doesn't speak Mando'a, not really, just a few words. While he had made no effort to hide the warmth in his voice, Din would also have known that Corin wouldn't understand the words themselves. It could be a great honor that he chose to speak to him in Mando'a, the language of Din's heart, or maybe he didn't want Corin to understand the actual words?  
He bites down a little too hard on the edge of the nail and there is a slight sting of pain along with a tiny taste of blood just as Din speaks.

“You're over-thinking whatever you're thinking about.” The Mandalorian looks over at him. “What's wrong?”

Corin quickly shakes his head and studies the light damage done to his finger. “Nothing. I'm fine.” He is soon surprised by the feeling of Din's gloved fingers sliding through his hair, he hadn't even heard him walk over to the bed, but lifts his gaze up to find him right next to him. Corin puts on a smile, forcing himself to get a grip, and this time he means it when he repeats; “I'm fine.”

Din hums, clearly not entirely convinced, but he merely indulges in trailing his touch along Corin's jawline until he can gently nudge his chin. “We should go check up on the kid.”

Corin nods, strangely enough feeling better and more calm now. He's over-thinking. “Yeah.”

Din has just opened the door and is about to step into the hallway when Corin sees it. He quickly reaches out and grabs a hold of Din's arm, halting him. “Wait!” When Din glances over at him, Corin struggles to find the words under the suffocating embarrassment. He clears his throat and vaguely gestures to his own neck, hinting that without his cloak Din's neck is now quite visible. Which means that the marks Corin had left are too. “Your... Uh... Maybe you want to...?”

Din merely keeps staring at him, clearly understanding what Corin is hinting at and it almost seems like he's daring Corin to tell him to cover it up.

Heat flushes into Corin's face, probably turning him as red as an Imperial Royal Guard, and his hand drops to his side. Every single soul who sees that is going to know and he doesn't want Din's reputation to suffer under the fact that he allowed a former Storm Trooper that close. As much as the craving for everyone to know is clawing at him, his brain is no longer deprived of blood and the ability to function, and Corin would rather Din didn't pay the price for Corin's greed.

Still, he can only conjure up some some weird sounds when Din merely walks out of the room.

The new Covert is a lot darker than the temporary one they'd stayed in. Even the walls are of black rock instead of the sand-colored material used at the temporary base. Here Corin actually feels like he's deep underground and the sense of safety battles a light case of claustrophobia.

They head towards the room where the young ones are gathered in a mix of play and training. Pausing in the doorway, watching the children busy with everything from tag to outright wrestling verging on fighting under the watchful eye of two Mandalorians, Corin swallows hard at the sight of their little one laughing with three others and his heart clenches with joy. He didn't really get to play when he was a kid, his father didn't approve, but Corin loves the sight and sound of this.

Din steps into the room and the second the child notices him, it makes a squeal of delight and instantly shuffles towards him, arms reaching up to be lifted and sounds even happier when the wish is granted. Corin follows and savors the three of them together again.

Barthor shuffles closer. “It's a tough little Womp Rat.”

“Yes.” Din says, stroking the child's head, sounding dangerously proud. “A real warrior.”

As Din walks out of the room, Corin pauses for a moment and glances over at Barthor and struggles to hide an amused smirk at the memory of what Din had revealed about him.

Barthor's helmet tilts a little, confused, then snaps up. “Oh, what did he tell you?” He turns his focus to the doorway and raises his voice to shout after Din. “It was one time, Djarin. One time!”

Losing the fight against a laugh, Corin quickly trots after Din and the child.

-

They wander around, exploring and getting to know the location. They stop to get some food for Corin and the child. While Corin tries to persuade to get Din to grab some food and head back to the room and eat too, the man refuses. He simply insists on holding the child and resting his hand on Corin's lower back while they eat.

“You got to eat.” Corin repeats as they leave the room.

“I will.” Din assures him. “Later.”

The sound of hammering reveals when they are walking by the workplace to the woman in the gold armor. Corin cringes a little, too aware of the fact that he'd lost the gorgeous breastplate she'd given him and that he'll never be able to face her again. He can't even blame bad luck, that had just been Corin being too weak to protect the gifts given to him.  
The uneasy knot in his stomach lasts until they come upon a room Corin recognizes only too well and he can't help a faint smile as he steps inside. “Well, now we're talking.” He looks around and concludes that this is indeed a training room he can use with delight. He even sends Din a devious smirk, knowing how much the man hates it when he works out.

Din does his best to impersonate a statue. Which means that Corin is morally obliged to tease him a little. He saunters over to where there is a vertical rod clearly meant for pull ups, turns to face Din and jumps up to take a hold.  
Shifting a little to get a good grip, noting that Din still hasn't moved, even the child is watching him curiously, Corin pulls himself up just to annoy the Mandalorian.

When that gets no reaction, Corin does another one, but Din still merely stands there and watches him. Fine. A third then. On the fourth, a sound emerges from Corin's throat at the strain. Din makes the tiniest tilt with his helmet and that is when Corin has the craziest flashback of making that exact sound when Din had his naked hands on him.

Corin's grip fails and he drops to land rather gracelessly on his butt. He barely register the pain, too surprised and embarrassed, and he realizes he can never work out near Din ever again. Just the thought of Din making that connection too would be too embarrassing to survive! Better not risk it.

“You okay?” Din asks, and there is definitely an amused smile under that helmet.

“Yeah.” Corin clears his throat and gets up on his feet, hating the heat in his face. “Yeah, I'm fine.”

They move on.  
But one thought lingers in Corin's mind and when they are about to retire to their room for the night, he sees the one person he has been looking for all day is at the other end of the hall.

“Paz!” He gestures to Din to go on ahead before trotting over to where Paz is standing with two Mandalorians Corin hasn't seen before. “Paz, wait, can I, uh, talk to you? Please?”

Paz nods for the two unfamiliar Mandalorians to leave them, glances over at where Din is standing, before focusing on Corin coming to a halt in front of him. “Tired of the troublemaker?”

“What?” Corin realizes what he means and shakes his head. “No. No, that's not... Listen, I want to ask you a favor.”

There is an amused snort, but then Paz realizes he is serious and curiosity takes over. “Talk.”

It seemed like a good idea, it _is_ a good idea, but Corin have to admit he failed to consider Din's reaction when he sees him with a split lip after the first session.  
“I'm going to kill him!” Din snarls, furious, clearly meaning every word.

“No, you're not.” Corin objects, blocking the way just in case. “I asked him to, okay?”

“You...” Din stalks back and forth like a predator seeking the right angle to pounce. “You don't have to go to him! I could...”

“I asked him because I need to learn!” Corin exclaims, a little frustrated. “If you want someone to fight in a bar brawl, I'm your man. But what we're facing? It's a lot more than a brawl. I need to learn to fight better. Like you guys. And I didn't want you to look at my bruises and feel weird about it.” Din is an incredible fighter, but Corin suspects he'd be reluctant to cause him pain.

Din sighs and steps closer, a little calmer. “Corin...” His voice is suddenly soft. “Learning doesn't have to hurt.”

Having a life time of experience telling him otherwise, Corin only manages a sad smile. “I'd rather take a punch to the face now than lose to Gideon again...” If only he'd been stronger back then...

Din grumbles but backs off. They are both still tense after what had happened. Someone dropping a plate yesterday had Corin turn pale as a ghost and Din jumping into a combat stance.  
Though, Corin swears that the next time he goes to practice with Paz, the giant Mandalorian does seem to hold back and refuses to confirm or deny whether Din had talked to him about this.

-

“Hey, what does Mandokarla mean?” Corin stomps his feet in a mock-chase after the child, making it squeak with joy, catching it and lifting it up high as they're making their way down the hallway.

Din tenses a little. “Why?” He asks warily.

“Raga called me that yesterday. After training.” Corin replies. “And I think Paz called me that once too. What does it mean?” He only dares to ask because he thinks that those two wouldn't bother teaching him if they resented him enough to call him bad names.

Clearing his throat, Din stares determinedly ahead. “I'll get you a new translator.”

“Oh.” Corin lights up at the idea, absently pulling the child close to plant a loud raspberry on top of its head before setting it down to let the chase start anew. “Thank you. I'll learn, I promise.” He is forced to an abrupt halt as Din's arm suddenly blocks the way, palm against the wall, and the Mandalorian leans close to speak in a low voice that sends a shiver up Corin's spine.

“I could teach you some Mando'a too...”

Suddenly a little breathless, Corin stares at the t-visor so close to his face and absently wets his lips.

“ _What_ is wrong with using your room??” Paz' voice snaps, a little too loud and a little too frustrated, making them jump apart and the child giggle.

“What do you want?” Din rumbles, clearly annoyed.

Sighing, Paz gestures for them to follow. “I was told to get you two. There is a present for you. Top side. Come on.”

Corin picks up the child, then he and Din exchange glances before they follow Paz to the exit. He gestures for them to head outside, but disappears back inside himself.

For a brief moment, Corin is distracted by the lovely daylight, savoring the feeling of fresh air, but then he sees the present and he exhales with surprised delight. Din is simply stunned to a halt at the sight. Handing the child over to the numb Mandalorian, Corin hurries over to where Liita is standing in front of the badly damaged Razor Crest. “How?” Talk about good luck!

Liita shrugs. “I called in some favors.” She turns to look at the ship with a critical eye and hands on her hips. “It would have been easier to just get a new ship, but... I do like a challenge.”

“Can I go into the ship?” Corin asks.

Liita shrugs again. “Sure.” She moves over to study the damage done to the front of the ship.

It's not easy getting inside, the cargo doors are jammed and it takes both strength and some squeezing for Corin to slip into the cargo area. It is a true mess in there, but he ignores it and sets course for the cockpit. He has to squeeze through that door too, like he'd done after the crash, and once inside, he is relieved to see his prize still there where he'd seen it last.  
After that, it is easy to go through where the transparisteel is still gone and he slides and jumps down to join Din and the child again.

“What was that about?” Din asks.

Smiling brightly, Corin holds up the drawing the child once had made of the three of them. “I thought it was gone...” He folds it carefully and places it in his pocket where it will be kept until he can put it up on the wall in their room. “Okay, Liita, tell me what to do to help.”

“Don't get in my way.” She replies, before she kicks at a bent plate, testing the damage.

“I won't, if you tell me what to do.” Corin counters.

She makes an annoyed sound, then turns and gives him a couple of assignments, which he instantly goes to work on. She sends Din a dry look. “You just going to admire the view or are you planning to help out too?”

Din huffs a faint laugh, looks down at the curious child. “What do you say?” His reply is a cheerful chirp so he nods at Liita. “We're in.”

Replacing damaged plates, fixing outside wiring, Corin is on his third plate when he glances over at where Din is working on something on the side of the ship and the child comes tottering over to him with some gadget.

The Mandalorian says something in Mando'a, bends down and picks up the child to hold it up to allow it to slap the side of the ship a couple of times with the gadget in an effort to help. It brings a faint laugh from Din and he murmurs some soft words of what has to be praise.  
The child coos happily, looking up at him, before slapping the ship again.

Corin can't help smiling, leaning his shoulder against the hull and loves the two of them so much it hurts. They mean everything to him. His family. No amount of bad luck will ever change that.

“You just gonna stand there?” Liita asks as she walks by.

“No, ma'am.” Corin snaps back to work, flushing with embarrassment. “Sorry, ma'am.”

They work and the hours fly by. Corin barely hears Din declare it is time for a break and get some food. 

“Yeah, uh, in a minute...” Corin is standing on a small working platform, trying to reach a bent panel up high. “I just gotta-” An arm goes around his waist and suddenly, with a squawk of surprise, he's picked up and spun away from the ship. Corin automatically flails, but quickly breaks out laughing when he realizes it is Din and starts slapping his arm. “Fine, okay, put me down!”

Din sets him on his feet and releases him to crouch down as the child is abandoning Liita to head over to where it sounds like there is more fun and Din reaches out his left arm to welcome it.

Corin, still a little flustered, glances back at his work and then frowns annoyed. He hates leaving things unfinished. “You know what? I'm just going to finish this and-”

Child on his left arm, Din moves slightly forward as he straightens and his right pauldron goes directly into Corin's stomach, folding him over the Mandalorian's shoulder with a surprised huff, and seconds later he's carried off and they disappear inside the Covert again.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

They work on the ship for several days. Between six to eight hours of that, plus playing with the child, hassling Din to learn him Mando'a phrases and training with Paz, Corin is utterly exhausted. That means he's too tired to dream, which means no nightmares. Lucky him.

Din watches him, silently, doesn't seem entirely happy for some reason, and then the day comes where they receive a message from Zev'sonya. The new location for the former Storm Troopers is now up and running and two more defectors have already found their way there.  
“You want to check it out?” Din asks. 

Corin is wearing his sleeveless shirt and gray training pants and sitting on the bed, drying his hair after a post-training shower. His ribs are aching from a well-placed punch, compliments of Paz. “I'd love to, but we don't really have the time, do we?” He lets the towel drop down to rest around his neck and sighs wearily. “Also, the ship is nowhere near ready to fly yet.”

“A couple of days. We can afford a couple of days.” Din moves a little closer and places a gloved finger under Corin's chin to make him look up at him. “You're running yourself into the ground.”

Corin reaches up and takes a gentle hold of his wrist, even sneaks his thumb under the glove to stroke the skin there because the man's concern makes his chest clench hard. “I'm fine.”

“We're leaving.” Din says and despite the touch to his wrist, there is enough authority in his voice to make Corin both a little flustered and automatically driven to obey by ingrained habit.

It takes a little while for Din to persuade Liita to borrow them her ship, she threatens to fix it with his Beskar if he brings it back with any damage to it, but eventually she agrees.  
The real surprise is when Paz and Raga decides to come with them.

“Why?” Din asks, verging on rude, and Corin jabs him with his elbow, aiming carefully as Din is holding the chirping child.

“We need some new supplies for the Covert.” Raga explains. “Some medicine. We can pick that up where the Twi'lek planted the bucketheads.”

“And we get to make sure you, troublemaker, don't stir up more trouble.” Paz adds.

There is a low growling coming from under Din's helmet, but he merely stalks inside the ship without further objections. Corin knows he won't object as long at is for the Covert.  
Corin aims to follow Din but he only gets to move a couple of steps before Paz' giant hand grabs a hold of his neck and squeezes, in what he probably means as a friendly gesture but nearly has Corin's knees buckling under the pressure. “You're not trying to get out of training, are you, ad'ika?”

Corin clears his throat and puts on a smile. “No. No, this wasn't my idea. And I'm not a child. You...” He hesitates but throws in the word Din had taught him. “Di'kut.” _Idiot._

Paz jolts with surprise and Raga barks a laugh of raw amusement. Bracing himself as he expects Paz to teach him a painful lesson with his fists about mouthing off to his superior, Corin is stunned when Paz then merely joins in on the laughter.  
“Very well, _vod_.” The large Mandalorian says, dragging Corin along as he boards the ship. 

Hours later, when Paz and Raga are taking the opportunity to get some sleep in the cargo area, Corin absently rocks the drowsy child that is more or less drooling on his shoulder, standing next to Din in the pilot seat. “So, uhm, I called him, Paz, you know... that. And he called me 'vod'. That's probably not good either, huh?”

Din is silent for a heartbeat, then he looks over and up at Corin. “It's good. Very good.” He actually sounds a little surprised and there is a touch of a smile in his words. A soft smile.

“Oh.” Corin feels a wave of relief and happiness flood through his veins. Good luck is smiling down at him today. “Oh, that's... good.” He clears his throat and shifts his weight. “

“And I asked Zev'sonya to get you a new translator, so you can make sure.” Din adds, turning back to the controls, still sounding pleased. “You've clearly made an impression with him.”

“He's nice.” Corin confirms, stealing a soft kiss from the child's head, smiling at the grumbled response from the little one, now asleep against his chest.

“No. He's not.” Din snorts. “He's really not. He's an idiot.”

Corin laughs a little. “Liar. You two are like brothers.” He makes a face. “Very loud brothers, who enjoying trying to punch each others lights out, but... brothers.”

Din considers it for a moment, then inhales and replies; “No. No, he's just a really big idiot.”

They both laugh and end up waking one very cranky child.

-

There is no beautiful island this time. The planet itself is warm and covered with either red rocks or yellow grass, but Corin is still no less amazed when he stands in front of what has become the haven for former Storm Troopers.

In front of them is a giant mountain wall and it looks like a massive castle is trying to emerge from it, half of it still hidden within the red surface. There are countless windows and balconies. It is, put mildly, incredible. Even the child coos with awe. On one of the lower balconies, Zev'sonya appears and waves at them. “Come on in, guys.”

Once inside the main entrance, all three Mandalorians are quiet, looking around and probably wary of trouble, so Corin allows himself to relax and just be curious. If there is bad luck here, he and the child are pretty well protected.

“About time!” Zev'sonya says, walking down the big, empty hallway towards them, holding out her arms and gesturing to their surroundings. “What do you think?”

“It's amazing!” Corin says with complete honesty. “And huge!” This is incredible good luck!

“Where is everyone?” Din asks.

“Upstairs. With the food.” Zev'sonya rolls her eyes. “Bucketheads. I swear, you could probably defeat the entire Imp army by just putting a bunch of food in a clearing and wait for them to come running.”  
Corin flushes slightly, knowing she isn't wrong. 

Walking up some winding stone stairs, they enter a large room with a massive table covered with all sorts of food and around it; many faces, some familiar and some unknowns. Corin notes how the three Mandalorians all move their hands to hover by their blasters.

“Come on in!” Leave-it declares, as if he's presenting his own personal castle and banquet. “What do you think?”

“Impressive!” Corin walks over and looks from Leave-it, to Kiergan and finally even Hauroko, relieved to find them all looking to be doing good.

Kiergan waves the unfamiliar faces over. “Let me introduce you to the others.” He gestures to the first one to approach, a dark haired woman with the cheekbones of a godess. “This is Jana.” He points at two others, a skinny looking man and a woman with a limp. “Dominic and Kinnon. Now, these three were the ones we picked up along with you. Remember?”

Corin nods, greeting them in turn. “I remember. Hi.”

“And this,” Leave-it says, wandering over to place his arms around a bald man and a muscular young guy, “Mokae and Heiden. They found us through the smuggler network."

The introductions take their time, the former Storm Troopers are wary around the Mandalorians and they even more so regarding them. Also, the child is a little too silent for his liking, watching the new Storm Troopers but making no sign of wanting to go near them. This is probably why it takes Corin so long to discover Mose lounging on his back in a corner, empty plates stacked next to him on the floor.

“There you are!” Corin instantly stalks over with the little one and is more than a little delighted to hear the happy sound the child makes at the sight of the Hutt. Soon the child is squirming too eagerly to be held, so Corin places on its feet next to Mose, who is looking a little awkward. “You doing okay, Mose?”

The Hutt looks at him, looks back at where the other former Storm Troopers are staring at them now instead of the Mandalorians, then shoves a piece of meat into his mouth. “What do you want?”

“To hear how you're doing.” Corin beams at him, knowing a sunny attitude was the guaranteed way to annoy him. But he kind of forgets his nefarious plan when he sees the child digging its claws into Mose's hide and begins climbing up. He reaches out to stop it. “Oh, hey, no, kid. That hurts.”

“It's fine.” Mose mumbles.

“What?” Corin straightens and glances from the child to the Hutt's face and, yeah, there is no sign of discomfort. “But...” Then he realizes that his own skin might be like paper under the child's claws, but Mose's hide is far too thick for them to pierce it. “Oh. That's handy.”

Mose shrugs and reaches for another piece of meat while the child continues its climb. He curls his tail, forcing Corin to take a step back, to make sure the child will have a soft landing if it should fall.

“This is why we're friends, you know.” Corin says, only partially teasing.

Mose looks like he just said something disgusting and avoids his gaze, shoving the meat into his mouth and swallowing it whole, but he does remain suspiciously quiet.

Grinning, Corin is about to apologize, knowing he's being mean to the poor Hutt, when a firm arm goes around his shoulders and he's tugged close to Zev'sonya, who says: “Mose. I need a favor.”

Sighing, Mose wipes his hand on his side and seems completely untroubled by the child now using his belly as a trampoline. “What?”

“I'm getting this here pretty boy drunk. Mind baby sitting?” Zev'sonya with an evil grin that puts Corin's earlier efforts to shame.

Mose smirks. “Sure.”

And suddenly Corin is the one feeling nervous.

-

While the Mandalorians will not join in on the drinking, an excuse is all the former Storm Troopers need to celebrate and kindly offers to drink their shares as well.  
Corin tries to object, but Din shakes his head. “It's okay, Corin. Have fun. It's why we're here.” He draws a deep breath. “I can handle it.”

Confused, not sure what Din meant by that, Corin has to ask; “Are you sure? We can leave.”

“I can handle it.” Din repeats, sounding like he was trying to convince himself, not Corin.

It ends up being not too terrible. Mose withdraws pretty fast with the child, Din and the Mandalorians hover by the entrance, but Corin is quickly included by the other former Storm Troopers, all eager to hear about him and his story. He tries to underline the fact that he is only alive thanks to Din, but it can't really register with them as they don't seem to think any less of him for it.

The more they drink, the friendlier everyone gets. More stories emerges. Kinnon had injured herself on a mission where her squad had been ordered to wipe out an entire village. Mokae had punched an officer who wanted him to execute a child. Jana had lost a friend to Gideon's temper. And they all had stories about other Troopers looking for a way out.

“This could work.” Jana says, staring into her cup. “If they hear there is a place, that others have made it out, that we're alive, free, it could actually work.”

“I'll drink to that.” Leave-it exclaims, and so they all do.

Only ten minutes later, Corin has to hide a smile behind his drink as he sees Kiergan sailing up next to Raga and giving her his drunken charm. Then he nearly chokes on his drink when she doesn't punch Kiergan in his face but actually laughs at something he says. A flirty laugh!  
Even Din swivels his helmet in a startled motion to stare at them. 

The amusement lasts somewhere between ten to fifteen seconds, then there is a loud crash as a glass is smashed against the wall. Corin jumps, so does everybody else, and they turn their attention to where Paz had obviously smacked the drink out of Leave-it's hand and where they are now in a furious fist fight.

Before anyone can react further, Zev'sonya jumps in between them, avoiding fists and headbutts, then the three comes to an abrupt halt as she has her vibroblade dangerously close to Leave-it's neck and her blaster directly under Paz' helmet and against his throat.

Raga shoves Kiergan away, jumps over the table and has her blaster at the back of Zev'sonya's head within a heartbeat, growling; “Back off.”

Zev'sonya turns her head slightly to get an eye on Raga. “You get one shot, Mando. One. You better not miss or I'll slice you up as well.”

Raga doesn't move an inch. “I never miss.”

“Enough!” Din shouts. He steps forward, lifting placating hands. “No one is shooting or stabbing anyone. Okay? We're all on the same side here. Weapons down.”

Corin joins him, hoping they won't turn their anger on them, and even dares to reach out and takes a gentle hold of Paz' arm, urging him to back up. Which, to Corin's surprise, he does.  
Zev'sonya lowers her blaster, then Raga does the same, and after a tense moment, everyone exhales with relief. Good luck was back. Corin clenches his hands to hide that they are trembling.

Leave-it gestures to the vibroblade still by his neck. “Do you mind?” He snaps.

Zev'sonya holsters her blaster, turns to face him and snarls. “You. It's ALWAYS you!” She sheaths her blade as well, but only to shove hard at Leave-it with both hands. “This was supposed to be a fun night! But of course you had to mess it up! Go to your room!”

“I didn't do anything!” Leave-it yells in return, stumbling back. “It was that moron! He came at me for no reason! Ow!” He yelps as Zev'sonya grabs a hold of his ear and drags him out of the room. “OW!”

Corin sends Kiergan a wide-eyed look, but he only gets a tired shrug in response.

Raga shoves at Paz as well. “What is wrong with you? We're guests!” Paz's response is a wordless rumble, so Raga reaches up and slaps the back of his helmet.“Idiot.”  
“Nag.” Paz fires back.  
“Do you want me to hurt you?”  
Paz sullenly shakes his head.  
“Good.” Raga then turns towards Din and Corin, gesturing that she had no idea what had gotten into him either.

But at least there are no more fights after that.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

Corin is not drunk. He's not... entirely sober. But he's definitely not drunk. Okay, he's a little, but not... too drunk, at least.  
It is kind of fun hanging with other Storm Troopers again. They know all the old songs, they wrap their arms around Corin's shoulders, they laugh at the same thing. It's finally a language Corin understands.

But he also notes that Din is awfully quiet, hovering in the background, arms crossed and leaning against the wall next to the exit. And that draws him more than anything the others can conjure up. Corin disentangles himself from Heiden and walks over to him. “You okay?”

Din nods, not tense, but not relaxed. “Didn't know you could sing such dirty songs. I hope you haven't introduced the kid to any of those.”

Corin snorts a laugh, feeling heat flushing his cheeks and he's glad he's a little drunk otherwise he'd been too embarrassed to reply. “No, of course I haven't.” He reaches out and takes a light hold at the top of Din's breastplate, tugging lightly. The lie slips easily from his lips; “I'm tired. Sleep now?” Corin had hoped Din would relax around the others after a while, but it doesn't seem like it. And while Paz and Raga have vanished, Corin knows Din will linger as long as he does.

Din instantly straightens and is clearly all too happy to leave the loud Troopers behind. “Sure.”

As they walk to the room Zev'sonya had declared as theirs for the night, -Yeah, Corin might be a little more than a little drunk after all as 'their room' sounds perfectly right to him- he hums softly at one of the drinking songs and bumps his shoulder occasionally against Din's pauldron to tease him.  
And when they step inside the room, Corin smirks at the sight of just one bed. “Look at that.” He lets out a drunken giggle. “There's just one bed.”

“Yeah.” Din sighs, sounding anything but surprised. “I think she has a bet going with Mose-”

The Mandalorian doesn't get to finish his sentence as Corin resolutely shoves him on to his back on the bed and quickly follows to straddle his waist.

“Corin...” Now Din sounds surprised. He tries to sit up and so Corin shoves him back down again, holds him down.

And that, that there, it brings that hitch in Din's breathing that Corin wants. Oh, Din _does_ like this, theory confirmed, and Corin can feel a smug, drunken smile spreading on his face. Talk about luck.

Din is frozen for several seconds, then he clears his throat and his voice doesn't sound entirely steady when he speaks. “Not here.”

The smile disappears from Corin's face and he's torn between humiliation and fear he's made yet another of his countless mistakes. “I'm... I'm sorry, I...”

Din's hands flies up to take a hold of Corin's hips, preventing him from getting up. “Not here.” He repeats. “Not 'not this'. Just, not here.”

Corin frowns confused, about to ask if he wanted them to head into the hallway and put on a show for everyone, but finally his drunken brain manages to point out that they are at an unknown place, surrounded by armed people, of which they only somewhat know the half of, so of course Din is in his wary mode with no intention of lowering his guard. Because Din actually has his priorities right.  
Whining, Corin sinks forward and mashes his face against Din's collarbone. “I didn't think. I'm an idiot. A duck-utt!”

Din's left hand releases his hip to slide up Corin's back in a comforting gesture even as he huffs a laugh. “Di'kut. And, no, you're not.”

Corin stays where he is for a long while, the room swaying pleasantly between his drunken buzz and Din's chest moving with his every breath. The hand continues to slide up and down his back. It feels really nice. He's getting sleepy.  
“I know you only did this for my benefit.” Corin mumbles, eyes closing. He wiggles a little to get more comfortable, stretches out one leg, barely notices that Din holds his breath while he does so. “You brought me here because I've been pushing myself and you thought I'd be happier surrounded by other Storm Troopers.” He yawns. “I appreciate it, I really do, but...” Corin sighs and settles quite comfortably. “You and the kid. You're all I need.”

Corin barely gets to finish the sentence before he's asleep, so he's not entirely sure if he just dreamed that Din's fingers curled tight into his shirt and his arm hugging him close.

-

Waking the next morning and only feeling half-dead is a nice surprise. Corin knew he wasn't 'that' drunk. But he does heartily appreciate being woken up by Din gently nudging his shoulder with a cup of herbal brew meant to help this kind of predicament.  
And this is also a time when Corin appreciates Din being a man of few words. At least until he feels like himself again and have thrown some cold water into his face to shake off the final remnants of sleep.

Once Din suspects Corin is ready for words, he makes a suggestion.“Paz and Raga have headed into the village to get the supplies. I thought we could pick up the kid and meet them there?”

Nodding, Corin stretches. “Sounds good.” He pulls his hands through his hair. “Zev'sonya said Mose is hiding down one floor and on the right. Can't be too difficult to find; a room that a Hutt can squeeze into.”

He's right. It's not difficult at all. As there is no door, merely a huge hole in the wall where a door once had been before it was removed, along with parts of the wall, to create a large enough opening. But Corin barely notices the crude work as he is too busy staring at the sight inside the room.

Comfortably curled up on a nest of countless pillows and blankets, the massive Hutt is asleep, lying on his left side, tail semi-curled around himself. And in the embrace of his left arm, two green ears and a small head can be seen poking up as the child is snoring away with utmost trust in its safety.

“That is the cutest thing I have ever seen in my life.” Corin 'whispers' to an awkward Din.

The second the words are spoken, Mose's eyes slide open, alert and wary, but he only makes a grumpy sound once he sees Corin and Din. It takes an impressive ripple of muscles under the hide for the Hutt to lift his body up in a smooth movement, the yawning child dangling from his arm with not a care in the world. “He was quite active yesterday, so he's tired. And probably hungry. We had a late night snack, but he has the appetite of a Hutt.”

Corin steps into the room and can't help smiling. “Thanks for looking after him. I owe you one.” He sees Mose glance down at the drowsy child, who is smacking its lips in a barely awakened state, hesitating a second before holding it out towards Corin.

Accepting the child, holding it close and feeling his heart clench hard as it automatically burrows against his chest and is asleep again with a heartbeat, Corin feels bad for Mose that he doesn't have this. But, he could, couldn't he? If the rumors were true...

“Hey, is it true you Hutts can create babies by yourself?” Corin asks, suddenly realizing how perfect this idea is. “Just imagine it; a mini-Mose. Our kid could use somebody to play with.”

Mose blinks, once, then he points at the exit. “Out.”

Corin is about to counter with more brilliant reasons why it is a good idea, then Din has a grip on his arm and is dragging him away. “We're leaving.” The Mandalorian assures the narrow-eyed Hutt.

“Think about it!” Corin urges before he is pulled out of the room and down the hall.

They travel to the village, which is no more than a ten minute walk skirting the mountain and there they meet up with Paz and Raga, who have already gathered the medicine they needed. It is a really small gathering of dwellings with red rock walls and white roofs, numbers barely worthy of being called a village, but the colorful souls who live there are friendly and they have a surprising amount of goods to choose from.

Having bought some breakfast for the child and himself while Din checks out the weapons displays, Corin sits by a table at the outskirts of the small market and kind of forgets to eat, unlike the child, too mesmerized at the sight of the nearby Paz hoarding boxes of food into a large sack.  
“Is that supplies for the Covert too?” Corin asks Raga, who had decided to settle down next to him. He hadn't heard there was a lack of food back there. 

Sighing as she watches Paz as well, Raga shakes her head with resignation. “No. That's snacks.”

Paz and Raga head for the ship while Corin and Din return to the new hide-out to wrap things up.  
Zev'sonya, Kiergan and Jana are already waiting for them by the entrance. “Here.” Zev'sonya hands Corin a small datapad. “I heard you needed a new one.”

“Yeah.” Corin accepts it eagerly. “Thank you. I'll guard it with my life.” He studies it briefly, then frowns and looks at her with badly hidden concern. “You didn't kill Leave-it last night, did you...?”

Zev'sonya smirks. “No.” She shrugs a shoulder. “He ducked.”

“And Mose?” Corin looks around, hoping to see him.

“He's not fond of goodbyes. He said you threatened him last time.” Zev'sonya sounds amused.

“I did say I'd reveal to everyone that we were best of friends.” Corin admits, failing to hide a smile. “Well, tell him I expect you two to visit or I will come back with a friendship bracelet for him.” And while she laughs at that mental image and moves over to hassle Din and the child, Corin turns to Kiergan and Jana. “Good luck. And, I'll try to check in as often as I can.”

“We got this.” Kiergan assures him. Jana nods.

“I believe you.” Corin confirms, holding out his hand and the handshake that follows is firm and determined; just like Kiergan himself. 

“And thank you.” Jana adds. “For helping Michael's dream come true. You're a good man, Corin.”

Corin shakes his head. “I'm not. But Din is. He won't admit it, but he's the one you should thank.”

Walking towards the ship, Din and the child by his side, Corin glances back one final time and sees Hauroko and Leave-it on one of the balconies. Hauroko nods and Leave-it is waving. Corin waves back with a pang of sadness but hopes he'll see them again some day.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

On the flight back to the Covert, Paz locks himself inside the cockpit to pilot the ship with the claim that he needs to focus and they are too noisy. Corin suspects that is just his code for 'enjoying his snacks in peace without having to share.'  
Still, Din and Raga don't seem to mind. They merely set up seats and a rickety table in the belly of the ship and try to out-do each other in arm-wrestling.

Corin finds himself and the child a quiet corner where the kid can play with its toys and he can scroll through the Mando'a section on the datapad.  
He first looks up 'vod' and feels a jolt of joy at being referred to as 'friend, partner, brother'. Corin would never have expected that from Paz, who is usually quite fixated on how non-Mandalorians is not worth his time. What had been that other word they'd used? Mandokarla?

Scrolling up on the page, Corin half expects to translate it into 'outsider' or 'weakling', but is instead stunned to find it having a very different meaning. _Someone having the right stuff, showing guts and spirit._ Someone who had what it takes to become a Mandalorian.

Corin almost flings the datapad away as if it had turned into something lethal, too overwhelmed by the endorsement, terrified he'd looked up the wrong word and this was all a misunderstanding, and even more terrified by the prospect that they had indeed said and meant it. 

For a panicked moment, he can't breathe, hearing his father's voice whispering that he's a failure, bound to disappoint everyone like he had let him down, but then a soft chirp snaps him out of it and Corin glances over to see the child watching him with a concerned look.  
“I'm fine.” Corin states, smiling until the little one goes back to its toys and then forces himself to get a grip. He clears his throat and looks down at the datapad screen again. Mandokarla... The right stuff...

Was it possible? Becoming a Mandalorian... And did Din share their opinion?

Landing outside the Covert, Raga gathers up the medical supplies they'd bought while Paz secures his personal loot and the two does not waste time before heading inside. Corin, however, barely takes a step outside of the ship before he comes to an abrupt halt.

“What?” Din asks, nearly walking into him with the child in his arms.

“Look.” Corin steps down the ramp and walks over to where the Razor Crest is almost restored back to her old self. He stops at the front of the ship where Liita is defying gravity by hanging on the side of the panel and making some final sealing of the edges of the new transparisteel. “How?” He asks with pure awe, gesturing to the ship when Liita glances down at him with a faint frown.

“I work faster when I don't have you getting in my way all the time.” Liita mumbles, then nods a greeting to Din when he catches up. “How's my ship?”

“Not a scratch.” Din promises.

The look on Liita's face says she's not convinced, but she doesn't push the issue. “Welcome back then, I guess.” She turns back to her work.

And for the next two days days, Corin goes back to his routine. He spends a good amount of hours helping Liita with the finishing touches to the Razor Crest, which is now looking like a shiny version of its old self, and divides the rest of his time between working out, getting beat up by Paz, practicing his Mando'a and playing with the child. Which means the few moments he gets to spend alone with Din are the seconds before he falls asleep in the evening and the thirty minutes in the morning before Corin is off towards the training room. It sucks, but for some reason; Corin can't stay still. He feels bad enough about the time they had spent with the other former Storm Troopers.

Corin has to prove to the Covert that he can be useful, that he has Mandokarla, that Din made a good choice in bringing Corin with him.  
Corin needs them to know.

On the third day, when he stops by to pick up the child from its regular play time with the other Foundlings, Barthor is already waiting for Corin, standing in the doorway with the little bean on his arm.

The sight sets off warning bells in Corin. He can tell by Barthor's stance that the man is uncomfortably tense about something. “What's wrong?” Corin asks before Barthor can even greet him.

-

“He almost hurt a fellow Foundling.” Corin informs Din in a quiet voice. He is sitting on their bed while Din is standing, watching the child play on the floor. “He lifted him up and threw him.”

“It must have been an accident.” Din states in a flat voice.

“Yeah, that's what I said too.” Corin sighs, shaking his head. “But, no. It's the third time he's used his powers there. He gets frustrated when he can't keep up with the others during their training. They're all bigger and physically stronger than him, so he tried to join in by using his... skills.”

Din is quiet. Too quiet.

“The Foundling's parents were not happy. A lot of the parents are unhappy after these incidents, apparently. They say if he can't keep up, then he shouldn't be there.” Corin feels his heart break for the little one. He knows what it feels like not to measure up to others...

Din sits down next to Corin, looks over at him. “He just needs a little more time before he starts any training. I shouldn't have put him in there. He's still too young.” He hesitates then reaches out and takes Corins' hand in his. “You're not happy either. I haven't seen you smile since you visited your friends. Do you want us to go back there? Stay there instead?”

Several things registers in Corin's brain at once. First, the fact that Din's fingers are braiding with his and that does dangerous things to his heart rate. But also that Din is paying attention to whether Corin is smiling or not. If he'd known, Corin would have remembered to smile more often to keep him from worrying. And not in the least, that Din was offering to go back to where he himself had clearly been uneasy just to see that smile again.  
Corin squeezes his gloved hand gently. “No. If we're going somewhere, I'd like it to be somewhere we'd all be able to relax.”

Din considers it, then nods. “Okay. I'll find some place.”

The Mandalorian disappears for the rest of the day, doesn't come back to the room until long after the child and Corin have gone to bed and he disappears again before they get up.

Corin does not expect Din to come barging inside their room in the late afternoon and order him to start packing. Now.

“W-why?” Corin gets up from where he'd made a pillow-pile to read with the child. “Something wrong?”

“No. Nothing is wrong. But we have to go now.” Din states, marching over to gather his own clothes and starts shoving them into his bag.  
Corin and the child exchange confused looks.

By the time Corin has packed his stuff, Din has already gathered the child's things in a bag and is waiting for him by the door with the little one on his arm.  
Still uneasy by this sudden rush, Corin grabs his bag and follows the Mandalorian out. “Din. Are you sure everything is okay? Why do we have to hurry?”

“Everything is fine. I promise.” Din replies, leading him up to the surface where Liita is waiting by the Razor Crest.

“I've just finished and you're going to take her out and get her all dinged up again?” Liita complains.

“I'll be careful.” Din promises, sounding awfully cheerful. Even the child is warbling happily, looking at the ship with big eyes and ears eagerly perked up. “Thank you. For this.”

“I'd ask you to repay me by not getting shot again, but that didn't work too well last time, so...” Liita shrugs. “And I enjoyed the challenge. I changed the fuel lines too, by the way. She'll last you a long time if you don't get her shot up again.”

Corin shakes his head, still amazed at how quickly she had gotten the repairs done. He was pretty sure she must've been working through the nights! This was all hard work, not good luck. “So how do we repay you?”

Liita considers it, then wipes her oily hands on her pants. “I'll let you know when I know.” She turns and walks away.

“Bye!” Corin calls after her, sees her raise a hand in an absent wave, then he follows Din on board the Razor Crest.

-

It feels good to be back on board the ship he'd started his journey towards freedom on. It's familiar, even if a lot of the panels and equipment are new. The child's seat is a lot more advanced and comfortable, but Corin is delighted to find his seat as he remembered it.  
Din is being awfully secretive. He's usually not overly talkative and Corin doesn't ask, but all of this is making Corin nervous. “So, uh, where are we going?”

“Some place we'll all like.” Din answers, and Corin smiles with nervous anticipation.

The journey takes a little over ten hours. By then, Corin is slumped in his seat, half-asleep, with a very asleep child on his chest, and only the gentle shake of atmospheric turbulence makes him sit up and actually pay attention. “We're here?”

“Yeah.” Din replies. “We're here.”

Stretching his neck, peeking out the tansparisteel, Corin sees the surface of the planet is green, very green, and he watches as they fly over a large village and then over a flat, empty field that eventually slopes down into a lush valley surrounded by steep mountains in a u-formation. A single dark-brown building and a small shed situated next to a large lake is all that can be seen there.

When Din lands the Razor Crest next to it, Corin can't wait to get out and explore and find out why Din had chosen this exact place. There had to be something special about it, aside from the beautiful surroundings and the lack of neighbors.

When the ramp lowers and Corin takes one step outside, the heat slams into him. He had not been prepared for almost desert temperatures, feels a flicker of disappointment until he remembers the lake and makes a silent vow to spend most of his time in it.  
The child squeaks eagerly and wants to be set free from Corin's embrace, but that's not happening until Corin knows there are no wildlife that is a danger to the little one either by trying to eat it or hurting its tummy by getting eaten.

“Come.” Din walks by them, carrying their four bags by having two in each hand.  
Corin follows.

The valley is lovely and so is the inside of the building. A large living room, a small kitchen and three small bedrooms. Corin quickly realizes that he can be quite content here after all. He'll just spend the days in the lake and the evenings on that lovely lounger while reading his Mando'a words.

“It's really nice.” Corin offers, but Din merely grunts and disappears into one of the bedrooms with their bags. There are times when he can tell Din and Paz are brothers and this is one of them.  
Leaving him to whatever he is up to, Corin heads outside and goes exploring with the child.

The lake looks tempting and putting his hand into the water reveals it to be quite lukewarm. Good. Corin is going to need it to survive this heat. He can already feel locks of hair sticking to his forehead.  
But looking around, seeing the beautiful scenery and how peaceful everything is, Corin can understand why Din chose this place. And so far, nothing is trying to eat the child and there is not much living for him to eat either. Very good, if a little strange. Why is the beautiful valley not teeming with wildlife?

By the time he and the child return to the building, a surprising amount of hours have passed and the little one is making its hunger known. Corin enters the kitchen and finds Din already there and holding out a plate with some interesting looking food. “Oh. Thanks.”

And about ten minutes after it had eaten, the child slumps over where it is sitting on Corin's lap and is already asleep. Out like a light. Fighting against a laugh that is bound to wake the little one, Corin manages to ease it up into his arms and gets up to look over at Din. “Where...?”

Din points at the bedroom he'd entered earlier. Inside, there is a crib next to the large bed and Corin gently eases the child down into it. He watches the little one sleep for a little while, hoping they had made the right decision to leave the Covert. Playing with the other Foundlings had been a highlight for the child, but according to Barthor; a lot of them were too afraid of him to play any longer. Maybe it would be okay for it to just be spoiled rotten for a little while by him and Din instead of learning how to fight?

-

Heading back out into the living room, Corin finds Din standing by the kitchen window and the Mandalorian asks; “Asleep?”

Corin nods. “Yep.” He gestures faintly to the surroundings. “This place is beautiful. He's gonna love staying here.”

“I hope so.” Din replies. “The ones who live here haven't seen Imperial or New Republic ships for years. I checked. We should be safe for a while. Only the Covert know where we are.”

“Good.” Corin sees his datapad is lying on a table, picks it up and wanders over to test the lounger he had set his sights on earlier. It is, luckily, as comfortable as it looks.  
And as Din seems content to play statue by the kitchen window, Corin leaves him to it and starts reading up on his Mando'a.

A long, very long, silence follows.

“Corin.”

Corin jumps in his seat, startled by the sudden sound of Din's voice and he glances over with a wide-eyed look. “What?” 

Din walks over to the front door. “Get over here. Come on.” He opens the door and heads outside.

Corin doesn't move, holding on tight to his datapad, wondering what is going on and how bad it could be. Okay, so Din had been acting weird all day, but now Corin is dreading to find out the reason why. It has to be something bad. Bad luck won't allow them to relax.

“Corin, get out here.” Din's voice sounds from the outside.

Swallowing hard, Corin obediently puts the datapad down and slowly approaches the open front door. He notes that it is getting dark outside, it's like the sun had disappeared, and inches outside to find Din standing there. “What?”

Din nods for him to step further outside.

“Why?” Corin asks, almost pleads.

Din reaches out and gently shoves him further out until he's walking by himself, then releases him. Corin takes four steps, then turns to face him again. “What's going on?” He's no longer confused, now he's getting really anxious. “I don't...” Corin exhales, searching for the words, and suddenly sees the white smoke billowing with his breath. “What...?” 

A light brush to his cheekbone leaves something wet there. Then something touches his neck. Then his nose.

Corin looks up and to his amazement, he sees the countless snowflakes falling from the dark sky.

“Every year, it starts snowing on this day.” Din's voice explains. “Then it snows for two months.”

Exhaling a laugh, now feeling the wonderfully low temperatures he'd failed to notice earlier in his fear, Corin spreads his arms out and keeps his face turned up towards the falling snow. 

Every chilled caress that melts on his skin feels like bliss. He can't help making a full turn, arms still out, and grinning like an idiot. And the snow keeps falling. Thicker now. Within hours, he knows the green valley will be covered by a white blanket.  
Cold, crisp, pure snow. If the cold holds, even the lake will freeze over. Oh, stars above, he hasn't been on skates for years.

The possibilities, the idea of weeks upon weeks with snow, it has Corin trembling, not the cold, so he's a little surprised when he feels something warm covering him and he looks over to find Din standing next to him after having placed a thick wintercoat with a fur collar over his shoulders.  
Dammit, Corin can't stop smiling! His cheeks are aching, but he can't stop. “Thank you.” And he doesn't mean the coat.

Din's gloved hands comes up to cup Corin's face, a thumb brushing away a melting snowflake from his skin. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.” He leans in and gently places the forehead of his helmet against Corin's snow-kissed forehead. 

Struggling under too much happiness, Corin closes his eyes and reaches up to take an anchoring hold on the fabric just under Din's pauldrons. “Din...”

But Din merely moves one of his hands to cup Corin's neck, holding him into that Keldabe kiss, before he speaks agan. “I love you.”

It feels like someone just punched the air out of Corin's lungs, he hears himself make a half-choked sound, feels the snow melting and cooling his hot skin. He can think of a thousand reasons why Din shouldn't, a million reasons why he didn't and this was a misunderstanding somehow, but he can only come up with one single answer. “I love you too.”

Din exhales, sounds relieved, and shivers. He moves to pull Corin into a hug and holds him close.  
Corin doesn't hesitate to wrap his own arms around him in return, both holding equally hard on to the other.

They stand like that until a small layer of snow have covered them and that is when Corin turns his head a little to suggest in a soft voice; “Let's go inside.”

“What about the snow?”

Corin smiles into the cloth hiding Din's neck from him. “It'll be here tomorrow. Right now I'd really like to head inside and warm up with you. If that's okay with you?” He places a suggestive kiss against the covered neck.

“Yeah.” Din's voice is breathless, but his grip isn't uncertain when takes his hand and they walk inside. 

Corin is amazed at the trust the Mandalorian places in him, with his body and his heart. At first he's a little embarrassed about his lack of extensive experience, but then Corin realizes that when it comes to actually falling in love; Din is as new to it as he is.

They'll learn together.

-

The weeks that follow are the happiest in Corin's life. Din brings him to the shed the very next day and reveals the huge amount of snow equipment there.  
Different kinds of skiis, skates, sleighs, snowshoes, even things he's never tried before. The only thing lacking is the boards they had used on the slopes in his free time during his Snow Trooper training, but it's easy to make one, even if Din stares at him like he's lost his mind.

The child is not overly delighted when it wakes up to a snow-covered valley, but once it is dressed in winter clothing and Corin gets to show all the fun things you can do in the snow; it doesn't take long before it is addicted to the cold as well. Not to mention how adorable it looks in a winter coat, mittens, tiny boots and a wool hat with a fuzzy pompom on it.

Din tolerates the snow, luckily he doesn't loathe it as much as Corin hates the heat, so he will join them occasionally when he's not busy cleaning his weapons by the fireplace or practicing his aim on the practice range they set up.

It also turns out that the village has a whole bunch of children who loves to go sledding on the slopes and while Corin and Din keeps a wary eye on them, it turns out that size and strength doesn't really matter when you're just having fun with a sled so their child is easily included in the games.

The highlight for Corin is when the lake is frozen solid and he can put the skates on. Turns out, he still remembers a lot of the old tricks. 

Holding the child and watching from the safety of the bank, Din shakes his head a little when Corin takes a couple of rounds at high speed, skates backwards, does a couple of tricks. “Now you're just showing off...”

“If I was showing off,” Corin declares as he slides by him, “I'd be doing stuff like this.” And praying he won't make an idiot out of himself, he tosses himself into a back-flip, lands it, goes into a one-foot spin, then slides backwards while moving his skates in every other direction, before turning, leaning down to place one hand against the ice and does a turn on one skate, straightening back up to pick up speed as he skates directly at Din, only to come to a sharp halt to shower him and the child with a spray of ice dust.

The child squeals and waves its arms in the fine ice dust still hovering in the air.  
Din's ice-dust covered helmet radiates an annoyed glare. “Don't do that.”

But Din's hatred for the skates and his fear of possible fractures because of them only lasts until he sees Corin rushing down one of the steep mountain slopes on that board he'd made and the tricks he will do at that speed and high up in the air during jumps, then that becomes his number one enemy.

After that, Corin even manages to persuade Din to join him on skates to teach him. He honestly can't say what he likes the most; that Din looks so cute like a nerf calf trying to stand on the ice or that he has a tendency to latch on to Corin and hold on for dear life if he gets close enough.

One the more quiet days, Corin will wrap the child up in blankets and a cold-resistant sleeping bag, put him on a sleigh, attach it to his belt, grab some food and water, and brings him along on ski trips that lasts up to six hours. Din forces him to bring a communication device for those trips.

But while the days are gloriously busy, Corin finds that he enjoys the nights every bit as much. After an entire day out and about, it is dangerously delightful to curl up with Din, who welcomes his proximity and will spend hours trailing light fingertips over his back and neck while reading.

This is what feeling happy is. Corin has no doubt. He has barely stop smiling for more than five seconds during these weeks.  
Even Din seems happy.  
The child definitely is.

“You gotta find a name for that kid.” Corin mumbles one evening as he's resting his head on Din's stomach.

“Me?” Din snorts. “It's your job too.”

“My j...” Corin waves a hand. “You shot down every suggestion I came up with.”

“I am 'not' naming the child after a Moff, Corin.”

Corin blinks. “Oh.” He hadn't thought about that, merely cool names. “Ok, I'll come up with some suggestions, then you do the same.”

“Fine.” Din's gloved hand comes down and pets his hair. “Now shut up and go to sleep, ner kar'ta. I'm trying to read.”

Smiling, Corin closes his eyes and does exactly that.

Yeah, everything is perfect. Which should have been a giant red flag for Corin. That way, he wouldn't have been so shocked when Din gently shakes him awake one night and he opens his eyes to the most unreal sight.  
Everything in the room, every single thing, except for the child's crib and the child itself, is floating mid-air, lifted by some silent, unseen force.

Corin starts as he realizes even their bed is currently hovering above the floor with them in it. He looks over at the crib, sees the child is sleeping peacefully, only its tiny hand twitching a little, and he feels a creeping dread that the little one is not even aware of using its powers.

Luckily the episode ends without drama, the bed thumps lightly when it is put back down, items are scattered all over the room wherever they land, but Corin and Din both know this was just a warning. As much as they'd like to pretend everything is fine, they can't ignore this.

The child keeps getting stronger. What happens if the child has a nightmare the next time it uses its powers in its sleep? What if the power gets too strong for the little one to control it? What if the lack of control leads to an accident that cannot be cleaned up or healed?

That's when Corin knows that they have to leave this pleace. Before bad luck catches up with them.

They need to find some way to help the child learn how to control its powers and they can't do that here.

And while he does feel a sadness over leaving, he has been looking for a place to belong to for most of his life, he also realizes that the location doesn't matter. He will go wherever they go, do whatever it takes to keep them safe. And he will do it happily.

Because Din and the child are his family.

 _They_ are his home.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


Black skirts makes a soft sound as Antonia Sylvanna Motti makes her way down the shining hallway on board of the few Star Destroyers that still exists. Her two servants doing their best to keep up as she heads towards her target with long strides and even the doors appear to slide open much faster than normal to accommodate her.  
“Moff Gideon.” Antonia calls for the attention of the man glaring at a holomap laid out in front of him. “I hear you have lost sight of them. Again.”

A muscle twitches in Gideon's jaw. “Not for long.”

“You promised me you would have them within a week. It has now been a week. Where are they, Moff Gideon?”

Gideon straightens and focuses on the woman at the opposite side of the table. A woman showing signs of old age, but not even time had dared to lay full claim on her. Her black hair is streaked with silver, but at her age it should probably had been white as snow. There are plenty of lines around her eyes, but the eyes themselves are sharp as blades. “I may need a little more time.” He states.

Antonia scoffs. “You had them before and you lost them. Both. I supposed I should be glad, otherwise you would have had Valentis executed and I would have little choice but to destroy your little kingdom here.”

“I will find them.” Gideon grits out, holding on to his calm by pure will.

“If you do, remember that Valentis is mine. Don't test me again, Moff Gideon.” Antonia turns and marches out of the room, leaving her slaves to scuttle after her again.

“Sir?” One of the Storm Troopers steps closer to Gideon, wary of his temper. “Our scans came up with nothing on the last three planets. No sign of the Asset.”

Closing his eyes for a couple of seconds, Gideon then opens them again. “Send out a message. Anyone who brings me the helmet of a Mandalorian will be paid the helmet's weight in phirk.” He looks over at the Trooper. “And with the added weight of the heads still in them, they will be paid more.”

The Storm Trooper nods and moves over to the communication system.

“Kill enough vermin and you're bound to find the right one eventually.” Gideon says, looking down at the datapad containing Din Djarin's file and his fingers slowly curl into a tight fist of rage. He should never have trusted Karga to deal with him. A mistake he is not going to repeat. The next time Din Djarin is within his reach, he is going to burn the man alive.

Meanwhile, Antonia Sylvanna Motti approaches her ship in the docking bay. “Any word from our spy?”

One of the servants quickly steps up a little closer. “Yes, my lady. Still with the other defectors. Valentis has not been back again, but preparations are ready if he does.”

Antonia makes a thoughtful sound. “Good.”

“My lady, why are we dealing with these kind of people?

Antonia walks up the ramp to her ship. “Valentis will never turn his back on the Mando and the little miscreation. But if we take them away from him, I am told he can be useful. Let Moff Gideon play his little game, maybe he gets lucky, but I'm certain our trap will give results long before he can come up with something useful. Now, let's go.”

\- - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you still wondering; YES, there will be a sequel. There will also be Din's POV version of F&H, plus a 1-2 chapter fic about Corin's childhood. And who knows, maybe an occasional glimpse into the past or other characters as well. I hope you will come with me for the final part of their journey while we wait for season 2.
> 
> Coming soon; HIDDEN AND REVEALED
> 
> For Q&As and other stuff, check out [my Tumblr.](https://sulphuryasecretcloset.tumblr.com/)

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